Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous
by indigo's ocean
Summary: Ed has always been prone to irrational prejudices. Winry has always had a crush she's too afraid to admit. Envy's always had whatever he wanted. But this summer, things will change. highschool AU, EdxEnvy, Winryx?
1. Chapter 1

_I don't own FMA._

**Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous**

**Chapter One  
**_welcome to my life_

Central, California. Population: 19,453. Home of the terminally rich, terminally ill, and terminally _insane_. And, right now, Edward Elric's hell on Earth.

The late May sun beat down on him with all the intensity of a sledgehammer, reflected and multiplied by the hot black pavement he was sprawled on. "What the _fuck_, Winry?" he asked, propping himself up with one hand as he stared at the blonde girl looming above him.

"What?!" she shrieked "_You_ ask _me_ what? You think you can break up with your girlfriend of _three_ damn years and she won't give a shit?" Her blue eyes blowed fiercely as she glared down at him, and the waves of anger emanating from her slender form only added to the nearly unbearable heat. "You are _such_ an intolerable _prick_! What will everyone say? Huh? I thought you were my _friend_!"

"Winry, look." Ed said uncomfortably as he got to his feet. "We weren't actually dating in the first place, remember? It was just so-"

"I don't _care_!" she shrieked. "You can't just _dump_ me!"

Ed held up his hands in an effort to placate her. "I don't see what the big deal is. We were just-"

Winry was nearly spitting with rage as she screamed at him. "It _was_ a big deal! You're such a _jerk_! You-" She turned as if to march off, but Ed grabbed her wrist.

"Winry, did you forget? We made a deal. I would _pretend_ to go out with you until I felt like being 'available' again, and then we would break off our relationship. _Peacefully_." He was nearly as angry as her now, his golden eyes smoldering furiously.

"Yeah, but what will everyone-"

"I don't give a fucking _shit_ what everyone says." He glared. "I'm single now, you're single now, you can have a chance to pick up that chick you're always obsessing about, I can see other people-"

"That's right, it's all about _you_, isn't it?" Winry was crying now, her eyes bloodshot and tears streaming down her face. "And you just want that black haired _slut_-"

"_You_ just want to pick up that brown haired _bitch_-" His words were abruptly cut off as Winry slapped him sharply in the face. Ed's head snapped back as a burning pain consumed the left side of his face. Clapping a hand to his cheek, he looked up to see Winry sprinting away. The teenager glared at her retreating form. If they hadn't been before, he was sure that _everyone_ in the entire parking lot was staring at him now.

Ed sighed, slumping back against the sleek black convertible. He hadn't meant for the break-up to go that badly; after all, their 'relationship' was just supposed to be a charade. /Yeah, a charade that lasted for _three_ years,/ he thought bitterly, nursing his flaming face. "Fuck." he cursed as he turned his eyes up to the bright, almost painfully blue sky. He squinted as the sun seared his eyes, causing dark spots to dance in his vision. The whole situation was ridiculous, really. He hadn't wanted their friendship to change - all he had wanted to do was stop the lovey-dovey playacting. It was time for Winry to move on and actually _do_ something about her ridiculous crush, and he had finally meant someone whom he deemed worthy of spending his time with.

/Speak of the devil.../ Ed thought wryly as a slim, dark-haired girl wove her way through the left-over cars.

Lyra greeted the teenager with a friendly smile, noting with amusement that Ed seemed to be making himself at home by _her_ convertible. "How did it go?" she asked curiously, her straight, charcoal colored hair swinging in front of her face as she bent to unlock her car.

Ed grinned tiredly. "Not well." he replied, removing his hand from his face to reveal a large red handprint spanning his cheek.

The girl winced in sympathy. "Ouch. But why did she _slap_ you? Isn't that a bit of overkill?" She climbed gracefully into the driver's seat, motioning for Ed to get in on the other side.

"I guess I could have broken it to her more gently." he replied, sighing and staring out the window as Lyra rolled the top down and the breeze fluttered his bangs about his face. "I _was_ kind of a jerk."

Lyra shrugged. "She probably took it too hard." she replied without sympathy. "After all, it's not every day that you break up with a boyfriend of three years." Her charcoal hair flew back, exposing her dark slanted eyes and high, narrow cheekbones. Noticing Edward watching her, she flashed him a smile that looked almost like a smirk.

/But she _knew_!/ he thought, turning his gaze away from Lyra's perfect, porcelain skin and and biting his lip. The way she was looking at him made Ed a little uncomfortable, but he put it down as leftover guilt from the botched breakup. Finally, he sighed. "Yeah, probably." he agreed, squashing the pang of conscience that surfaced as he chatted amiably about his - former - best friend.

When they pulld up at Ed's three-story apartment complex, he picked up his backpack and prepared to leave. "Thanks for bringing me home, Lyra. I really appreciate it." He smiled at the girl before opening the door carefully, meaning to hurry. It was laready past four o'clock, and he was sure Al was wondering where he could have gotten to.

"Look, Ed..." The teenager turned back to see Lyra, for the first time in the years he had known her, averting her eyes and looking self-conscious.

"Yeah?" he asked, curious as to what could have brought on this abrupt change in attitude.

"You know, if you ever need any help or anything..." she began, leaning closer to him. "Just ask me... okay?" Her lips were parted and her eyes were closed expectantly.

Ed stared at her for a moment before realizing what she was asking for. /She wants me to... kiss her./ he thought, panicking. /I've never kissed a girl before, I-/ But his train of thought was abruptly cut off by Lyra's lips meeting his own - apparently she had grown impatient. Hesitantly, Ed brought up his arms and drew her closer, opening his mouth obediently. Lyra's tongue reminded him of an oyster, and he _hated_ seafood. He resisted the urge to gag as the girl caressed his hair and drew him closer - he felt like he was being sucked in by a giant squid. /Is this what it's _supposed_ to feel like when you get your first kiss?/ he wondered. In all the teen novels he had read, first kisses were supposed to be memorable, with pounding hearts and electrifying touches. And this was _far _from pleasant.

After what seemed like an eternity, Lyra finally broke away, cheeks slightly flushed. She smiled - smirked - at him and Ed, not knowing what else to do, gave her a hesitant grin. "Well..." the dark-haired girl said awkwardly. "Call me tonight, okay, Ed?"

The teenager nodded and hopped out of the convertible, grabbing his backpack and speeding up the outside stairs. Before twisting open their door, he waved to Lyra, who pulled away gracefully from the curb.

/That didn't feel... right./ Ed thought as he stepped into the blissfully cool hall and dropped his heavy backpack on the couch. /Why? Is there something wrong with me?/

---

Envy stepped back from his latest masterpiece, admiring the bright white "A" he had painted on the brick wall. Biting his lip in concentration, he drew a circle around the letter, then grinned and threw the can of spraypaint across the grimy hall. He gave his anarchist graffiti the thumbs up sign, then began sauntering down the hall.

"Excuse me? Sir!" someone called from across the way. Envy turned to see a stout old lady waddling towards him, her frown only making her face look more wrinkled.

"Yeah?" he asked rudely, crossing his arms and looking down at her.

"Graffitti is _not_ allowed in our halls, especially _that_ kind of graffiti." she said, looking at Envy's 'masterpiece' distastefully. "You could get expelled for that, you know. It clearly states in our handbook, page thirteen, paragraph five, that 'Drawing, painting, spraypainting, graffiti-ing, or otherwise defacing any school property, including desks, walls, lockers, bathrooms, etc. is strictly prohibited. According to the nature and content matter of the drawings and/or writing, a student can be punished with anything from three-day suspension to expulsion." As she finished her recitation, she gave the skinny teenager a smug look.

Envy gave her a look. "You _memorize_ the handbook?" he asked, giving a slight laugh.

"That, sir, is _not _the issue."

"Oh, but it is..." Envy replied, smirking. "That's what I want to know, anyway."

"It's not about what _you_ want to know." the old woman told him, her frown, if possible, growing even more pronounced. "It's about the fact that _you_ have just been caught _defacing_ school property."

Envy's expression darkened, until he was glaring menacingly at her. Suddenly, he spun around to kick a stack of books that had been haphazardly piled against the wall. He watched in satisfaction as they skidded down the hall before turning back to the teacher. "Sorry, it was either those books, _or your face_. Now, where were we?"

The lady looked taken aback for a moment, but continued nonetheless. "Along with your 'art' over there-" she pointed to his anarchist symbol glowing proudly under flickering flourescent lights, "your attire is _completely_ out of order." She gave his skintight black crop-top and dark skort a disdainful look. "It is unbecoming of a young man, such as yourself, to wear such shameful clothing. You are coming with me to the office right now, and I _will_ be calling your parents."

As the teacher rambled on, Envy's expression grew darker and darker as he lost patience. Finally, throwing caution to the winds, he grabbed her by the collar and slammed the woman into the lockers, grinning wildly as he saw her feeble blue eyes widen. "Don't you know who I am?" Envy spat, bringing his face close to hers and wrinkling his nose at the old lady perfume. "Teachers don't even _try_ to tell me what to do." He shoved the teacher down, seeming to lose interest in her. As he walked away, he turned back to look at her gasping form. "Just ask them about _Envy_."

Grinning in triumph, he sauntered down the hall and out of the school. /_Nobody_ can mess with me.../

---

"Brother?" Alphonse called from the kitchen as Edward shuffled through the door.

"Hey, Al." Ed said as he pulled out a chair and plopped down at the table with his brother. "What's up?"

Al gave him a look. "You were supposed to be home an _hour_ ago! Where were you?" he all but yelled, his hazel eyes wide with anxiety. "I was worried, brother." When his car was in the shop (which was often), Winry drove him home around three-thirty, as bus service wasn't provided for the unusually, unsurprisingly poor public school. But today, it was already past four-thirty, and he had received no call from Ed warning him of any after school plans.

The teenager sighed. "Sorry, Al." he apologized. "I..." Ed gulped, fearing his brother's reaction. "I broke up with Winry." With anyone else, he would have said nothing, but the two were extremely close, and witholding something _this_ momentous from his brother just seemed wrong.

Al's eyes widened again, but this time with surprise. "But why? You guys have been together for _three_ years!"

Ed shrugged, casting about wildly for a believable reason. "It just... wasn't working out, ya know? I thought it would be a good idea if we stopped bing so exclusive and start seeing other people and... stuff." he finished lamely. It sounded like the kind of psycho-babble one saw all too commonly on daytime television, but it was better than nothing.

"How'd she take it?" Al asked, swallowing Ed's excuses without question.

Wincing, Ed turned to show Al his cheek. Winry's slap had giving him a red mark - soon to be a bruise, probably - that stood out violently against his lightly tanned skin. "Badly." was his simple explanation.

Al gave him a sympathetic look. "How'd you get home then?" he asked, standing up. "I'll get you some ice."

This was where conversation would get rather awkward. "Well, this girl took me home."

His brother's head poked out from behind the freezer door, where he had been rummaging in the icebox. "A girl?" Al asked interestedly, wiggling his eyebrows in a suggestive manner.

Ed laughed at his antics. "Yeah, her name's Lyra. She's pretty cool, I mean, she has a _convertible_..."

"Ooh, does big brother have a _crush_ on someone?" Al asked happily, dancing around the kitchen with a ziplock bag of ice dangling from his hand.

"Shut up, Al." Ed grumbled noncommittally, catching the ice when it was thrown to him and pressing it to his face. /Good thing I didn't tell him _everything_ that happened./ he thought, rolling his eyes.

Suddenly, Al's face became serious. "But what about Winry?" he asked, giving Ed a disapproving look.

"Huh?" the teenager replied intelligently, taken aback by the abrupt change in conversation.

"Win-ry." the sandy-haired boy enunciated. "What's she going to think about this 'Lyra' person?"

"Does it really matter?" Ed asked, wanting to get off the subject of his ex-girlfriend. He still wasn't sure what he felt about their 'breakup'.

Al frowned. "Don't you think it might hurt her feelings if you already found someone else?"

Ed grunted and stared out the window. After watching him for a moment, Al let the conversation die and turned the talk to the upcoming basketball match between the Central Cougars (Ed's school's team), and the St. Charles Conquistadors (his own). And, at least for the moment, the subject of Winry was dropped.

---

"Envy, there are only _five_ days left until the end of school." Dante told him, displeasure evident in both her voice and stance - arms crossed over a well-endowed chest, lips pursed, violet eyes narrowed.

"I'm surprised you even made it that far." Greed commented snidely from behind her. He was seated at the polished walnut table, apparently absorbed in the daily paper, but Envy knew he was avidly listening to the argument.

The teenager glowered at him from his perch atop the mahogany desk that also occupied the room. "Fuck off, _dad_." he replied spitefully, making a dig at his obvious _un_relation to the dark haired man at the table.

"Pay attention, _boy_." Dante snapped, stepping closer and glaring up at him. Envy was amused to see that he was at least a head taller than his so-called mother (who happened to be sadly lacking in maternal instincts of any sort). "I got a call from the administration today." she contintued.

"_Fascinating._" Envy replied sarcastically, making a show of examining his nails. Dante, being an actress both onstage and in her own home, absolutely _hated_ it when she was ignored.

"It was about _you_."

"No shit?" Envy asked, widening his eyes in mock surprise. He heard Greed cough and rustle the newspaper from behind his mother, probably to hide a snort of laughter.

Dante sighed. "Don't make me lose my patience." she said conversationally.

In return, she received a 'Who, me?' look from Envy, who remained silent. He wasn't willing to test his mother's tolerance _that_ far.

"You know violence against school faculty is _completely_ crossing the line. The teachers' union is threatening a lawsuit against us for your violence against Ms. Alessi."

/So _that_ was her name.../ Envy thought, shrugging. "It's not like you can't pay for it." he replied in a surly tone.

"Money is _not_ the issue." Dante replied. Personally, Envy couldn't see what was so appealing to others about his mother. Without makeup, fine wrinkles were visible at the corners of her mouth and on her forehead, and her eyes lacked any hint of the 'sultry sexiness' movie critics praised. "Are you listening to me, Envy?"

"Hunh?"

"I _said_, money is not the issue. Our _credibility_ is at stake. I am _not_ going to ruin my career by covering for _your _stupidity."

"No doubt it would help..." Envy muttered, thinking of the inevitable boost in publicity a lawsuit would cause.

"What was that?" Dante asked sharply.

"Nothing. Whatever." the brackish haired teenager muttered, turning on his heel and clomping out of the conference room.

"I'm not done with you yet!" his mother shrieked from behind him. But all she received was a rude gesture from behind his back as he stalked through the soaring entrance hall and up the lushly carpeted stairs.

Envy stomped into his room, flopping down on the cool leather couch and kicking off his combat boots. His feet hurt like _hell_ - the only reason he wore those black monstrosities was to annoy his parents and teachers. That, and their ability to intimidate. Sighing, the teenager rested his head on his arms and let his eyes adjust to the murky room, with its black walls and drawn curtains letting in no light whatsoever. On one side of the room, a shadowed doorway led to a bedroom and bathroom, each as dark, if not darker, than his 'living room'. On the other side, an jumble of electronic gadgets were set up, including a shiny silver gaming console, a plasma TV (thirty-six inches, built into the wall), a flatscreen computer, a gigantic, state-of-the-art stereo system, and a disorganized jumble of CD's, DVD's, and video games. He stared at the mess for a moment before wearily getting to his feet. He had promised to get online after school and talk to Kimbley.

With a flick of the mouse, his computer sprang to life, and Envy sprawled onto the leather-backed executive's chair, signing on.

**CrimsonExplosion:** Finally.

**ENVYme:** Parents were lecturing me.

**CrimsonExplosion:** What now?

**ENVYme:** Roughed up a teacher, 'defaced' the hall...  
**ENVYme: **I stole some spraypaint from a freshman and I put an anarchist sign by the bathroom door.

**CrimsonExplosion:** Fuck them.

**ENVYme:** No kidding.  
**ENVYme:** We should do something to the admin. tomorrow. Sort of as a 'going away present'.  
**ENVYme:** Since it's the last week of school and all.

**CrimsonExplosion: **Bombs...

**ENVYme:** We could plant them under the desks in the office!  
**ENVYme:** LOL!

**CrimsonExplosion:** Yes.  
**CrimsonExplosion:** That would show them the true power of anarchy.

Envy rolled his eyes. Kimbley could be ridiculous; what with his devotion to true and total anarchy and his extreme pyromania. That guy belonged in an asylum, and if the teachers at Central High had their way, he would end up in one very soon.

Suddenly, another window popped up.

**Ashlie040:** ZOMG!!!!!!!!!  
**Ashlie040:** ENVYYYYYYY!!!! I CAN'T BELIEVE UR ON!!!  
**Ashlie040:** lol

**ENVYme:** Hey, babe. Sup?

Envy smirked. He always loved it when his 'conquests' were desperate to talk with him. Of course, most of his stalker-fangirls were preppy Barbie-doll chicks, but one couldn't be picky. (It was either the airhead blondes or the freaky ghetto babes... and Martel.)

**Ashlie040: **Nothing much.  
**Ashlie040:** ...  
**Ashlie040:** Wanna hang out?

**ENVYme:** Your place, or mine?  
**ENVYme: **My parents are going out, so...

**Ashlie040:** UR HOUSE?!?! OMG!!!  
**Ashlie040:** It's SO BIG!!!! I'm coming over RIGHT NOW!

**ENVYme:** You know where it is. See you in five.

He exited the message, smirking. It didn't occur to him that half the reason he was so successful with the 'ladies' was his money, or, if it did, he didn't let it bother him much. After all, an easy fuck was an easy fuck, right? Envy was distracted from his musings by Kimbley's window popping up once more.

**CrimsonExplosion:** You there?

**ENVYme:** Sorry, got sidetracked.

**CrimsonExplosion:** Think five will be enough?

**ENVYme:** Five what?

**CrimsonExplosion:** Bombs, dumbfuck.

**ENVYme: **Make ten.  
**ENVYme:** We can use some in the cafeteria or wherever.

**CrimsonExplosion:** Right.

**ENVYme:** Hey, I gotta go now...

**CrimsonExplosion: **Not another girl...

**ENVYme:** Jealous, Kimbley?

**CrimsonExplosion:** You wish, slut.

Hearing the doorbell ring, Envy quickly signed out and flopped back down on his couch. He waited for the butler to bring in the girl... What was her name again? He shrugged. It didn't really matter. After today, he would probably never see her again.

_"Welcome to My Life", by _Simple Plan.  
_Reviews are appreciated, constructive criticism is adored._


	2. Chapter 2

_This chapter isn't really short. You just _think_ it is._

**Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous**

**Chapter Two**  
_over the edge_

Winry's limpid blue eyes opened slowly to gaze upon a plain white ceiling - her ceiling. Yawning, she sat up and stretched, looking around her simple room. It was nothing special; besides the bed, the only furniture was a pale oak dresser with a mirror and a desk containing her computer and a shelf of CDs. The girl stared when she caught sight of herself in the mirror - she looked perfectly rested. It probably wasn't normal for a girl who had just suffered a traumatic breakup with her boyfriend of three years.

Of course, Ed wasn't her boyfriend. Not _technically_, anyway. They had been 'together' since the beginning of seventh grade... at Winry's request.

_"Isn't she pretty, Ed?" Winry asked, dangling her legs off the wall they were sitting on. The two had been early enough to grab the most coveted spot in the playground - the back wall separating the playset from the kickball court._

_"Who?" Ed asked, looking among the congregation of schoolgirls. _

_Winry leaned forward, trying to pinpoint the dark brown hair and pink bangs belonging to a slim girl of medium height. "There." she said, finally locating the anonymous black backpack. "That one."_

_"You mean Rose?" her companion asked her, also looking at the olive-skinned girl. "Yeah, she's cute. Do you like her?"_

_The blonde bit her lip. "I dunno..." she said slowly, forehead creased in thought. "Ed," she began, suddenly looking up. "Is it _normal_ to like girls?"_

_"Hunh?" Ed asked, startled by the abrupt change in subject. "Well, yeah. _I_ like girls."_

_"Yeah, I know, but is it normal for _girls_ to like other girls?"_

_The twelve-year-old shrugged. "Doesn't that make you... like... a lesbian, or something? I mean, usually girls have boyfriends. Like Marisa and Ross, or Tori and Buster."_

_"Hm..." Winry had heard the other girls talking about 'lesbians', usually with an undertone of disgust or revulsion. _She_ didn't want to be talked about that way. She just wanted to be normal. "Then, Ed..."_

_"What?"_

_"Would _you_ be my boyfriend?"_

_"_What?_" Ed gave her a look as if to ask 'Are you _crazy_?", his peanut butter and jelly sandwich laying forgotten in his lap._

_"I don't want people to about me like they talk about Amber." Amber Gonzales, an eighth grader, was the midschool's only (open) homosexual-in-residence, and her mere existence was a subject of gossip and scandal among the ever-nosy seventh grade population._

_Ed gave her a sympathetic smile, and Winry felt glad - not for the first and not for the last time - that he was her best friend. "Sure." he replied. "But..."_

_"But what?"_

_"But it's not gonna be _real_, okay? If I find someone and I want to be _their _boyfriend, you'll let me, right?"_

_Winry smiled. "'Course, Ed! Thank you _so_ much!" She threw her arms around the twelve-year-old's neck and hugged him tightly._

_He blushed. "Erm..." Ed said awkwardly. "Do we really _have _to act so lovey-dovey?"_

_"Of course we have to!" Winry replied, delighted at her best friend, at Rose, at the _world_. "You're my boyfriend now, remember?"_

It had all been a charade in the beginning, and she supposed that Ed still saw it that way. But to Winry, covering up her sexuality had become her _life_. She feigned an obsession with Ed, and it had become real. She pretended she didn't like girls, and she had stopped admiring the pretty ones (except Rose, of course). And now it was all over. She had no one to hide behind, no one to make excuses for her. Maybe Ed was right. Maybe it was time for her to start trying to _talk _to the girl who had caught her fancy all those three years ago.

However, that was easier said than done. In the three years Winry had admired her, Rose had gotten a boyfriend she was devoted to and a group of friends that Winry would never_ dream_ of hanging out with. It was worth a try though... By now, Winry was willing to do nearly anything to get close to the one she had admired from afar for so long.

And so, maybe it wasn't so bad that Ed had broken up with her. Now she could live life the way she wanted to, without worrying about appearances. Now she was _free_.

But her musings were interrupted by the shrill beeping of the alarm clock. The blonde looked at it in horror - it was already eight o'clock, and school started at eight-fifteen. Meaning she had a mere fifteen minutes to shower, get dressed, and take the twenty minute commute to Central High.

Cursing, she grabbed the first clothes that came to hand and ran towards the bathroom. It was going to be an interesting day.

---

"Kimbley." Envy nodded to the stringy haired junior leaning against the wall. He was surprised to find him here this early - usually, the delinquent waited until at least eight-thirty to arrive. Of course, his promptness was understandable - who wouldn't be excited about the rebellion they had planned?

Kimbley returned his greeting. "Envy." He moved over to allow the sophomore to lean against the wall next to him. "The sound of explosions is a lovely thing, is it not?" He narrowed slitted yellow eyes at a curious freshman, who started and scurried away.

"I suppose." Envy replied, examining his fingernails. He casually stuck out a foot to trip another passing student. "If that kind of thing turns you on."

The ponytailed male made no reply, and the duo sat in silence as the eight-fifteen bell rang.

"So." Envy began finally, as the hall emptied of people. "Do you have them?"

"Of course."

"Lunchtime sound good to you?"

"Of course."

They lapsed into silence once more, Envy using the brief respite to examine his conscience. /Do I _really_ want to do this? ..._Hell _yes!/ Smirking slightly at the fun they had planned, he finally shouldered his bag and stood up fully. "All right then. I guess I should go to class now."

Kimbley shrugged. "You've got drama, right? It's only Mustang. He'd do anything for you."

"True." the teenager replied, letting his bag fall down and slumping back against the wall. He watched the junior fish out a cigarette from the pocket of his baggy camouflage pants and light it, watching the flame longer than necessary. Envy raised an eyebrow as Kimbley exhaled a puff of smoke, filling the air with the scent of tobacco. "You're really gonna smoke that inside?"

"Why not?" the junior retorted. "It's not like anyone actually cares. This is _Central High_ we're talking about." He fished out another cigarette and handed it to Envy, along with his red lighter.

The two highschoolers shared a laugh and a smoke, caught up in the euphoria of defiance.

---

Rayes Garcia was an average tenth grader. He had average looks - dark hair and olive skin, a medium nose and a crooked smile; an average family - a mom, a dad, and an _annoying_ younger sister; and average grades - C's were normal, right? The only not-so-average things about him were his name and his choice of friends - a scrawny Chinese junior and a rampaging, egotistical drama freak.

Speaking of which, here was one now. Edward Elric was stomping toward their usual table with a furious look on his face, ignoring the curious (and sometimes fearful) looks he received from classmates. Rayes rolled his eyes. When he sat down, he would probably start ranting about how Mustang had made fun of him in drama class (as usual), how he missed his ride with Winry (which was not uncommon), or how much he _hated_ those rich bastards.

And, as he had predicted, Edward began speaking as soon as he took a seat. "Fucking _dammit_! I _hate_ him! Today I came in late - by five minutes - and he" - Mustang, Rayes assumed - "gave me a fucking _detention_! Then, that bastard Envy came in half-an-hour late, and Mustang just smiled and asked him to read a monologue! He's such a stupid _jackass_!"

The teenager briefly wondered which jackass Ed was referring to, but the blonde's next words made it obvious.

"He thinks that just because he's rich, he can get away with whatever he wants. He's probably never done a decent day's work in his life! He _never_ gets in trouble because the teachers are afraid of his parents _and_ he's the most popular kid in school. I _hate_ him! I mean, plenty of rich kids are fine, but he's a stupid, spoiled, _useless_ bastard who probably wouldn't even last a day if he had to _work_ for a living." When Edward stopped to take a breath, Rayes interrupted.

"You know, you always badmouth Envy." he observed. "But, do you really even _know_ him?"

"Hell no!" Ed yelled, and Rayes winced. "I don't _need_ to know him to know that he's an absolute _useless_ bastard! He-"

Rayes rolled his eyes again and concentrated on his ravioli, blocking out the rest of the blonde's tirade. Edward was getting to be so predictable - he was always ranting about Mustang, Envy (and sometimes Kimbley), or his bastard of a father. Rayes had no problem that Ed hated Roy Mustang - the teacher was always picking on him; or that he hated his father - from what he had heard from both Edward and his brother, the guy sounded like a lousy ditcher. But he _still_ didn't understand the blonde's rampant animosity towards Envy and his friends. It was true that Envy was rich, and that he never got punished, yet... Ed didn't even _know_ the guy, and he already loathed him.

He was interrupted by the arrival of his other best friend, Ling Yao. The ponytailed junior took one look at Ed and raised a sardonic eyebrow. "Who is it this time?" the ponytailed teenager asked. "Mustang, or Envy?"

"Envy." the brunet replied with a slight laugh.

Ling resumed his usual smile. "Well, at least he's not this boring _outside_ of school." he commented, beginning to wolf down his lunch. It was five minutes before Ed stopped speaking long enough to notice his arrival.

"Oh, hey, Ling."

"Worked out all your issues yet, shorty?"

"WHO ARE YOU CALLING SO SHORT HE COULD BE CRUSHED BY A STACK OF MAGAZINES?!" Edward's rant was followed by a loud '_boom_' from the direction of the administrative building. "Oh shit! I didn't do that, did I?" he asked, covering his mouth with both hands.

Rayes's eyes widened as he stood up to crane his neck over the suddenly quiet crowd. He had watched too many military movies to _not_ recognize that noise. "Guys... that sounded like... a bomb."

"_Shit_!" Ed cursed again, standing up so fast his chair clattered to the ground. Students all around him were repeating the action, not sure whether to run or stay where they were. Even Ling had lost his customary grin.

As another explosion occurred even closer to the lunchroom, mass panic broke out. Everyone rushed for the nearest door. Rayes was caught in their midst and separated from his friends. He felt suffocated among the press of bodies as he was jostled around against his will. Gasping for breath, he could faintly hear the principal over the intercom.

"_**DO NOT PANIC! I REPEAT, DO **_**NOT**_** PANIC! MAKE AN **_**ORDERLY**_** EVACUATION OF THE PREMISES! STAY TOGETHER! DO NOT PANIC! I REPEAT, **_**DO NOT PANIC**__"

/Fat chance of that./ Rayes thought grimly as he tried to work his way out of the pushing, shoving crowd. Without warning, someone's elbow clipped him in the head, and he fell to the ground, his vision going black. He could feel himself being battered by the terrified crowd as they made their mass exodus. "Shit." he muttered, banging his chin on the tile floor and biting his lip. In an immense effort, he hauled himself upward to avoid getting trampled, and nearly dove out of the mob. Gasping for breath, he stumbled against the wall and found himself next to Ed's girlfriend.

"What's going on?" she asked, trembling.

"No idea." Rayes replied. His voice shook with suppressed terror. "We should get out before they start setting off stuff in here. Come on, I think there's space this way." He grabbed Winry's hand tightly and the two forced themselves back into the panicking mass.

_"Over the Edge", by _Zebrahead_  
Reviews are appreciated; constructive criticism is adored._


	3. Chapter 3

_thanks for letting me know it said this story was 'complete'... the only reason this chapter is on time because of __SexySpoonsWillRuleUsAll__. thanks for your reviews; i'm really glad you had time to check this out._

**Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous**

**Chapter Three**  
_we've got a big mess on our hands_

Envy cackled madly as he watched the confusion their little 'surprises' had caused. From the roof, the crowd resembled nothing more than a swarm of ants, fleeing from a demolished anthill - ready to be squashed like _bugs_. He glanced over at Kimbley, ready to share that witty comparison, but he found the junior lost in a trance. /Probably still thinking about the bombs/ he thought, sighing. And sure enough, the arsonist's next words referred to the love of his life - fire.

"Flames are a wonderful thing." he mused aloud. "They cleanse and burn and make room for a whole new world." His eyes followed the swirls of smoke rising out of the first floor windows. Envy spared a brief moment to wonder whether it was a good idea to be sitting on the roof of a burning building, then shrugged and turned to reply.

"Kimbley- you're really freaky."

"And you're not?"

Envy was about to open his mouth to retort, but was interrupted by the rooftop door bursting open. The duo turned to see a gasping man pointing at them. His face was streaked with ashes and sweat, and he looked ready to collapse from stress. "You two." he said with a shaking voice. "Come with me."

They looked at each other, and Kimbley shrugged. "Whatever." The pair turned and followed the principal back down three flights of stairs, past the still-smoking office, and out the front doors. The rest of the student body was milling about on the lawn, corralled by a police barricade. As they turned curious glances on him, Envy smirked and waved. It was nice to be noticed.

The police were concentrated around the front driveway, surrounding a temporary nurse's station where Miss Gracia treated several students for bruises acquired from the mob in the lunchroom. Also present were most of the school's teachers - Envy recognized Mustang, Armstrong, Hawkeye, and Falman, among others.

"Are these the two you were talking about?" a bass-voiced officer asked Armstrong. He looked as if he could have been the man's twin; they shared the same ridiculous musculature and even more ridiculous mustaches. At least the cop lacked the bizarre little curl that the blonde phys. ed teacher sported proudly on his forehead.

Envy narrowed his eyes at Armstrong as the giant nodded in reply. /So that's the guy who ratted us out./ he thought with distaste. Of course, it _had_ been inevitable that they would get caught. And it really wasn't that big of a deal. _They_ couldn't touch him. So he just smirked as the gigantic police officer questioned him.

"Are you two the ones that set off those bombs?"

"I dunno..." Envy replied in mock confusion. "Are you that Armstrong copied his mustache off of?"

The man's eye twitched. "Don't give me any lip, _brat_." he growled, grabbing the front of Envy's shirt and yanking him forward so that they were face to face. "You're in a _very_ risky position now. I suggest you cooperate."

The teenager glared at him for a moment, then, without warning, spat in his face.

The officer _roared._ In a fit of anger, he flung Envy to the ground as hard as he could, grimacing with a mixture of frustration and barely suppressed rage. His face grew even more furious when Envy simply sat on the ground and stared him down coolly. Before he could do anything further though, he was stopped by another policeman stepping in front of him.

"Lieutenant Gran! You're forgetting yourself." the new cop said sharply. He looked much more likeable than the rabid giant, with a slimmer frame, square glasses, and a mouth that seemed more suited to smiling than anything else.

"Officer Hughes." the giant - Grand - said with extreme dislike. Apparently there were some issues between him and the new guy, and Envy watched them both avidly. He loved confrontations like this - just as long as _he_ wasn't part of them.

The smaller man crossed his arms in front of his chest. "You're going to get discharged if you keep up this kind of behavior, Grand."

"An officer should not question the actions of his _superior_." Grand replied nastily. While he was distracted, Envy slowly got to his feet and moved over so that he was next to Kimbley, and further away from the circle of teachers.

"Think we should run?" he murmured to Kimbley, who, with an air of nonchalant rebellion, had been lounging against the side of a police car.

The arsonist thought for a moment before replying. "Nah, if they catch us then, we'll be in even bigger trouble. It's best just to wait and see what they have for us... Can't really be _that_ bad - no one was really hurt and only a few desks were ruined."

Envy nodded, trusting Kimbley's judgement. After all, the delinquent was much more experienced in matters such as this. /Besides,/ he thought to himself/it's not like they can do anything to_ me_./ And with that thought to boost his confidence, he watched the argument play out.

---

"Dammit." Winry cursed softly, looking around the confused crowd. Where was Rose? Was she all right? Had she been suffocated in the crush of people? Had she been _trampled_?

Rayes was next to her, panting with his hands on his knees. "You okay?" the boy asked, sweat beading on his forehead.

"Yeah..." she replied distractedly, catching a glimpse of dark hair and pink bangs. "Come on." She grabbed Rayes's wrist and tugged him forward, dodging elbows and careless feet. She needed to find Rose, before... before...

Winry halted mid-stride. What _exactly_ was she afraid of? Rose would be fine without her, after all. She had her _boyfriend_ to take care of her. Kain would make sure she was _perfectly safe_.

She only realized she had stopped when Rayes tugged her arm. "Hey, what're you waiting for?" he asked with typical finesse. "Ling and your boyfriend are just over there!"

"M-my boyfriend?" Winry asked, shaking her head to dispel her reverie. "Oh, haha. He's not my boyfriend anymore." She felt strangely euphoric as the words left her mouth, as though telling someone had made the action irrevocable - permanent.

"_What_?" Rayes asked, his jaw dropping. "When did this happen?" He looked aghast, for some reason. What was the big deal?

"Way." Winry replied, smiling freely. She hadn't expected _this_ much of a reaction, but, she had to admit, it was amusing. "We broke up yesterday afternoon."

The dark haired teenager stared at her for a moment, then turned and hailed Ed - probably to confirm what he had just heard.

"There you are, Rayes!" Edward said in relief, Ling waving from behind him. "Hey, Winry." His voice was kept carefully neutral, so the blonde wasn't sure whether he was angry or not.

Without preamble, Rayes launched into his questioning. "_You_ broke up with _Winry_?" he asked incredulously. Winry looked nervously at Ed for some kind of reaction, but the teenager just shrugged.

"Yeah. So? I really don't think this is the time-"

"_Why_?" the sophomore interjected. "What the hell, Ed? I thought you two were, like, going to get _married_ or something! Hell, the whole freaking _class_ voted you two the "Best Couple" last year _and_ this year!"

The blonde girl couldn't refrain from rolling her eyes as Rayes rambled onward. "Why is this such a big deal to him?" she asked Edward, forgetting their fight for a moment.

When he saw that the girl was acting friendly towards him, Ed smiled and sagged slightly with relief. "No idea." he replied, grinning. "You'd think _he_ was the one who got broken up with."

Winry was about to reply, but she was cut short when a dark-haired girl shoved in front of her and grabbed Ed's shoulders. "You okay, Ed?" she asked breathlessly. "I've been looking for you _all over_! Where have you _been_?"

As she continued interrogating Ed, the girl tried to tug him away from the rest of the crowd. Finally, Edward shook her off and walked back to his friends. "Guys, this is Lyra. She's, erm..."

"I'm his girlfriend." she said bluntly when he hesitated. "We've been going out since yesterday."

---

Maes Hughes prided himself on being a rational man. He made sure he was never swayed by the crimes of the rich and affluent. But, sadly, most of his coworkers, and nearly all court judges he had ever met, were susceptible to the glamour of the powerful. Thus, it was with a heavy heart that he replaced the station's phone back on its cradle. After all, once his superintendent learned that 'Envy' was the son of a corporate CEO and a multi-talented actress, both of the delinquents were likely to be let off the hook.

He turned back to the sullen teenagers. 'Envy' (Maes had to wonder - was that his birth name?) was trying to curl up in one of the hard plastic-and-metal chairs to sleep, while his companion, 'Kimbley' (who looked more like a hardened terrorist than a high school junior) was slouched with his legs stretched out in front of him, about to nod off. When Hughes cleared his throat to get their attention, he received a nothing more than a glare from slittled amber eyes and a bleary purple gaze. Shrugging inwardly - who cared if they listened? - he began to speak.

"I made calls to both of your parents, boys." he began. "Kimbley, I couldn't get through to your father, but I left a message telling him about your highly irresponsible actions today."

He thought he heard Kimbley scoff and mutter something like "As if he would ever get _that_," but he wasn't sure. It sounded like the kid's home situation wasn't all that great, but Hughes really couldn't do anything about it. If Kimbley didn't ask for help, and they found nothing obviously _bad_ about his parents, his suspicions would remain silent.

Now he turned to Envy, who still hadn't moved. It was hard to tell whether the kid was dead tired or if he was scared - with the way he was curled up, it could be either. "I did get through to your family, Envy, and I talked to your mother." He noticed the teenager's mouth twitch into a semi-smirk, and knew Envy was thinking he would soon be off the hook. "She was _extremely_ disappointed with your behavior." In fact, Dante really hadn't sounded that bothered, until he mentioned that there might be a report about it in tomorrow's paper.

He stood observing the two delinquents for a moment, then walked back to his desk and his paperwork. Normally, in this waiting period before his commanding officer showed up, he would have busted out his wallet and showed them all pictures of Elysia, his oh-so-amazingly-wonderfully-cute baby daughter, but he was wary of these two sullen youngsters. They had the courage (and the stupidity) to plant bombs - albeit _minor _ones - in their own school, putting their own peers in danger. Who knew what more they were capable of doing?

To tell the truth, Maes Hughes believed juvenile crimes to be the absolute _worst_. It horrified him that teenagers (and even children _younger_ than thirteen!) could commit crimes as heinous as any adult. That those who were supposed to be innocent, pure, _clean_ could be so tainted made him physically sick to his stomach. Where had society gone wrong? When had young adults started making homemade bombs? When had fourteen year old girls start willingly selling their bodies? When had _eleven year olds_ begun voluntarily smoking marijuana? His Elysia was growing up in a corrupt society, but Hughes was doing his best to make it better.

Smiling slightly, he shook his head and reshuffled his paperwork, realizing that he had slipped into another of his monologues on the perversion of humankind. If he was to get these ten crime reports filled out before closing time, he would have to work quickly.

Ten minutes passed slowly, the silence only interrupted when he set one report aside and reached for another, and when Envy quietly murmured to Kimbley. Hughes tried to eavesdrop on their whispered conversation. Envy was sitting up and shaking out his ridiculous green hair, while Kimbley cracked his knuckles one by one. Were they planning an escape? The desk was nearly six feet away, and it would take Hughes at least ten seconds to reach them in their chairs. But the policeman knew that there were two police service aides guarding the single door, which was also locked. Apparently Kimbley knew that too, because he shook his head. '_Not yet_.'

Finally, the door burst open and Commander Hakuro strode in. He was a big man by anyone's standards - tall, muscular, and rather intimidating. Half of his right ear was missing, having been blown off during a terrorist attack in his former hometown of London. Usually, he carefully arranged his hair so that the deformity was covered, but today his hair was in disarray, immediately letting Hughes know that his superior was in a bad mood.

"Hughes!" Hakuro thundered. As he stood and saluted smartly, Hughes noticed Envy jump slightly. Served him right.

"Yessir!"

"Have you called the boys' parents?"

"Yessir!"

"Were you able to reach them?"

"I left a message for Kimbley's father, and I talked to Envy's mother, sir!" Hughes knew that his commander was deeply in the pocket of some of the most powerful people in Central, including, he assumed, Greed and Dante. No matter how much he tried to persuade Hakuro, Envy and Kimbley would most likely be free by tonight.

Hakuro paused. "_Envy_, you said?"

"Yes... sir." Inwardly, Hughes sighed. This was where the rich-people's justice started. Why couldn't the law apply to _everyone_, equally?

"Would his mother happen to be named _Dante_?"

"...Yessir."

The big man paled. "What did you tell her?"

Hughes could positively feel Envy's amusement. The kid knew he was going to get out of this scot-free, and he knew the policeman knew it too. "I told her that her son pulled a very dangerous prank at his school, by helping to plant cherry bombs in the administrative building and near the cafeteria. I also assured her that damages were minor - less than two thousand dollars."

"And that's all?"

"I also warned her that Envy might feature on the front page of tomorrow's 'Central Gazette.'"

"_Damn_." Hakuro hurried to the wall-mounted phone and quickly dialed the three-digit call to his secretary. "Scheska! Send a memo to Dante - yes, _the Dante_ - and tell her she had better get her PR people working on shushing up that Central High explosion story. _Right away_." After he had practically slammed the phone back onto its hook, he turned to Hughes. "_Dammit_, Hughes! We have a completely different way of dealing with celebrities and their relatives! You should _know_ that by now!"

He did know the 'celebrity procedures', actually. Hughes just chose to ignore them. Sullenly, he answered, "Yessir."

"Good." Hakuro grunted, absent-mindedly, realizing that Envy and Kimbley had been avidly watching the heated exchange. "Ahem. Boys, since you're both underage, the damage to the school was minimal, and nobody was hurt, I'm going to have both of you spend the night here, in our temporary custody cells. Tomorrow, your parents can come pick you up, and the rest of your punishment will be decided by them and the school. Regrettably, I'll have to fill out a report for both of you, so now you two have criminal records, but it's very minor. Does that sound fair, Officer Hughes?"

Hughes gritted his teeth. It was most certainly _un_fair, and he knew Hakuro knew it. He had assigned kids _younger_ than this to at least three months in juvenile hall, pending trial, for crimes ten times smaller. And now he was just _letting_ these two psychos _go_. "Undeniably... fair." he choked out, clenching his fists. Hughes couldn't wait to be promoted, so he would be able to give out _equal_ justice.

His superintendent smiled icily. "I knew you'd see things my way, Maes."

---

When Alphonse came home, he was surprised to find his brother already there. It was only three-thirty, and Ed _never_ got home that early. A horrible thought welled up inside him - had Ed been _suspended_? - but the suspicion was quickly squashed. Something must have happened.

"Hey, Al." his brother said, tearing his eyes away from the television. "What's up? How was school?" He looked slightly tired, Al noticed, and his backpack, instead of sitting neatly in the hall, was next to him on the couch. He was using a classic 'Ed' tactic - changing the subject before Al even had a chance to speak. Luckily, as Edward's brother, the brunet was used to these underhanded tactics.

He glared at the sophomore suspiciously. "Ed... why are you home from school so early?"

"Oh, it was nothing, you know..." To those who knew him, Edward Elric was a horrible liar. Whenever he told a falsehood, he would smile widely and rub the back of his neck. And, yup, here it was, right on time, Al thought.

He put his hands on his hips and stared down intimidatingly at his brother. "Tell me."

Ed sighed. "Therewasalittlebombthreatattheschoolandweallgotoutearlybecausetheyhadtofixuptheadministration." he mumbled. He spoke so fast that Al couldn't distinguish a word of what he was saying - a sure sign that he was nervous.

"Excuse me?"

"There was a bomb threat, and we all got out early because they had to fix up the administration building."

Al gasped, horrified. "_What?_" A bomb threat? To him, having grown up in a series of Catholic schools, it seemed unthinkable. No one _he_ knew would even think of building a bomb, much less _planting_ one. And none of Ed's humorous anecdotes about life at Central High had even hinted that things like that went on. But, then again... there were rumors his friends had shared with him, about just how _corrupt_ the school really was.

Edward shrugged. "Yeah, some psychopath decided it would be fun to light some cherry bombs and roll them under the desks in the office."

"W-was anyone hurt?" He couldn't believe how nonchalant Ed's attitude was toward today's events. Was he _used_ to this kind of stuff? Had other 'incidents' like this occured, and had Ed just not told him about them? If people at Central High were going to run around trying to _kill_ people, it was Al's responsibility as a brother to get Ed out of that cesspit.

For the first time that afternoon, Ed met his eyes and grinned. "Geez, Al, calm down. No one was hurt - it was lunchbreak and the offices were empty! It's really no big deal - the worst that happened was a few bruises from people running out of the cafeteria."

"But people could have _died_!"

"Woah, Al... I think you're taking this a _little_ too far. The guys obviously didn't really mean to hurt anyone, because they waited until there was no one there. And they've been caught - no, I don't know who they are, but the police and the principal said so. We're probably gonna get the rest of the year off, too, since there are only three more days, and it'll take them a while to get the teachers calmed down enough. Okay?"

Alphonse gave a tight and frustrated exhale. When Ed put it that way, it _didn't_ sound like such a big thing. But still... someone could have died and that someone could have been Ed. And then Al would have been nearly alone in the world - definitely alone in their small apartment. "You know, you could always come to St. Charles. I mean, I'm sure you're smart enough, and they could give you a scholarship, or we could definitely manage to scrape up enough money..." When his brother gave him a withering look, Al's suggestions faded. "I mean, don't you want to go to a school where you don't have to worry about _getting killed_?"

"Al! It was just once, okay? It won't happen again." Ed was agitated - he had even turned off the TV and was sitting on the edge of the couch, ready to stand up at a moment's notice. "You know we can't even _think_ about affording _two_ private school educations. You don't need to protect me, Al, I can do it myself."

The brunet sighed, knowing the argument was lost before it had begun. "I know, Ed. But... if you died, I would be all by myself, and with mom..."

This time it was Ed's turn to sigh. "Yeah, Al, I understand. But, look. Nothing's gonna happen to me. 'Kay?" Al nodded. "Good. I'm hungry, let's go out for ice cream or something. Does Dairy Queen sound good to you?"

_"We've Got a Big Mess on Our Hands", by _The Academy Is...  
_Reviews are appreciated; constructive criticism is adored._


	4. Chapter 4

_warning: short chapter ahead. actually, it's kinda medium-sized. but there's only two sections, making it 'bean-sized'. pardon the pun._

**Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous**

**Chapter Four**  
_somebody told me_

Jail, Envy decided, wasn't all that bad. At least, the temporary holding cells at the police station weren't. Unlike the stereotypical grimy and graffitti-ed area that was common in the movies, these cells were clean and plain. The cots, although hard, weren't completely disgusting, and the facilities (a toilet and a rudimentary sink) had some privacy. Plus, there were no crazy Nazis or angry black guys just waiting for him to 'drop the soap'.

He and Kimbley had been put in a cell together to spend the night, with the authorities hoping that it would deter them from further acts of delinquency without actually _punishing_ them. Because then, Dante might get mad. And if Dante was mad, all hell would break loose.

Envy sighed, pillowing his head with his hands as he lay on the cot. Kimbley was on the other 'bed', still asleep. From the sunlight falling through the small window in the hall, he judged it to be midmorning. Almost time for him to get picked up. Hopefully his mother wouldn't be _too_ furious. Dante's violent rages were something no one in their right minds wanted to see, except maybe Greed. _Envy_ certainly had better things to do than be chased around the house by a psycho with a hairbrush. (And that _had _actually happened, when he was five. For the life of him, Envy couldn't remember why she had gotten mad.)

The teenager was interrupted from his musings by Kimbley groaning and rolling over, almost falling off his cot. "You awake?" he asked, sitting up and observing his companion.

Kimbley gave a noncommittal noise that could have meant anything from 'Shut the fuck up' to 'Good morning'. Envy chose to interpret it as the latter.

"Good morning to you, too." he said cheerfully, giving him his widest, most annoying smile. "Think your dad's gonna be here to pick you up?" Envy wasn't sure about Kimbley's family situation. From what he had gathered through the junior's haphazard mutterings and drunken ramblings, he lived with his father, an unemployed drunk. His mother had walked out years ago, and his older brother was studying to be a lawyer at Harvard. ("Scholarship student." Kimbley had stated contemptuously when Envy asked him about the charismatic Leroy.) Kimbley supported his father and himself with a combination of odd jobs and petty thievery. Even though he was only seventeen, the guy had a rap sheet longer than Niagara Falls (according to Envy's imagination). He had probably been in cells like this for most of his life.

But apparently the subject of his father was painful to him, or Kimbley was still half-asleep, because he simply grunted and rolled over, ignoring Envy's solicitous inquirings. Envy sighed, his breath fluttering the greenish hair hanging in front of his face, and leaned back against the wall. "Think they're gonna give us breakfast?" he asked, scanning the ceiling for a security camera. He hoped whatever cop was watching them had gotten the hint.

Five minutes later, the door was opened and two plates were shoved through. Envy smirked. They _really_ wanted to suck up to the rich kid, didn't they? But when he viewed the food, his face fell again. Pop-Tarts. You'd think that a district police station famous for its corruption could afford decent food. Sighing, he picked up a silvery package and threw it at Kimbley. "Here. Food." Yawning, Kimbley sat up, and ripped open the wrapping. Envy watched him devour the pink iced pastry with an air of mild disgust. After the junior had finished, Envy tossed his own breakfast at him. He _hated_ strawberries.

After Kimbley had devoured the second package of Pop-Tarts, he looked marginally more alert. "When do we get out?" he asked, yawning and stretching. His camouflauge shirt rode up slightly, exposing nicely toned abs.

Envy shrugged. "Whenever someone comes to get us, I suppose." he replied. "You've been in jail more than I have; you tell me."

Although he meant it as a joke, Kimbley glared and growled at him. "Shut the fuck up." the junior replied with a threatening stare.

"O-kay..." Envy replied, holding up his hands in a nonthreatening gesture. Sometimes Kimbley's rapid mood swings were really scary. Apparently he hadn't slept well, or the Pop-Tarts weren't agreeing with him, because the junior was giving him a look that spelled murder. It was really a hassle, Envy thought, to have such a _bipolar_ partner in crime. Then again, Kimbley was a genius at not getting caught (except for now), so he supposed he could live with it.

There was a strained silence after the junior's outburst, where Envy took some time to regret giving away his breakfast. The teenager's stomach rumbled loudly in the enclosed space, and he was sure his companion noticed. It was really quite embarrassing, so he was glad when the awkwardness was interrupted by a subservient policeman opening the doors and summoning them to the front.

On the way to the foyer, Envy ran his fingers through his untamed hair. He couldn't help but feeling a slight twinge of apprehension as they were released - at least jail was _safe_. He wasn't quite sure about his home - knowing Dante, his simple indiscretion would be grounds for turning their mansion into a charnel house, with him as the first casualty. He huffed slightly, and shrugged. He wasn't _too_ worried about the consequences, but there was always that lingering feeling of apprehension.

"Good morning, Master Envy; Kimbley." Hakuro greeted them as they shuffled through the doorway. Envy suppressed a snort at his deferential nature.

It was actually quite funny for him to be able to see the level of absolute corruption in the Central police stations firsthand. /I guess they prefer to break the law than get their asses sued off./ he mused, not bothering to return the commander's greeting. He noticed that straight-assed cop was standing behind his commander... what was his name again?

"Hughes, get me their papers." the large man commanded after it became clear he would not get acknowledgement from the two delinquents, and his subordinate left.

/That's right... _Maes Hughes_. The incorruptible cop./ Envy thought. He appreciated people with those ideals of equal justice, but only when the 'equal justice' wasn't directed at him. For now, he was glad that Hughes was too low-ranking to be calling all the shots.

After a few minutes of uneasy silence, where Envy had examined his nails, Kimbley had glared at the floor, and Hakuro had shuffled some paperwork around, the man reappeared with two anonymous manila files. "Here you are sir," he said, and Envy could hear the tension in his voice. His hands were shaking, balled into fists, as he stiffly walked to his former place behind his commanding officer. For a moment, Envy nearly felt bad for the cop. Hughes was exactly the type of policeman that gets killed in every crime drama - the just, righteous, upstanding citizen type, with (probably) a loving wife and children at home. The tragic type.

Hakuro coughed to regain their attention, and the three pairs of eyes in the room swiveled to him. "I'm sorry boys, but I had to add your delinquency at your high school yesterday to your permanent records. This means that anyone who asks for a police record will see that _you_," he glared at Kimbley, "planted at least three cherry bombs in the administrative office of your school, and _you_," here he gazed at Envy, with a much friendlier, sycophantic feeling, "were an accomplice. This will undoubtedly affect your future employment, but not by much, I should think." He stopped, satisfied at his little speech and apparently about to dismiss the two, when Hughes bent down to whisper in his ear.

"Oh, right." the commander said, ahem-ing. "I was also informed that the school principal is waiting to talk with you boys in the interrogation room. If you would just follow Hughes, then..." He gave them a little wave to show that they were dismissed, then went back to the folders and piles of paperwork on his desk.

Silently, the policeman motioned for them to follow him down a stark corridor, devoid of all furnishings except a string of naked bulbs attached to the ceiling. Was this supposed to create an ominous atmosphere? Envy wondered. To get criminals in the mood for hardcore questioning?

As they continued down the passageway, Hughes began to speak. "You two got off lightly this time." he said, his voice sounding tense. "Consider yourselves lucky. Let me warn you: _next time_, you might not have your 'celebrity' status to protect you. _Then_ you won't get away when you pull crap like this."

Kimbley gave a small snort, which was received with a glare, but Envy shrugged thoughtfully. He was beginning to respect Hughes and his misguided ideals, and he didn't want to burst his bubble. _He_ knew that the world wasn't all good, and that laws and the government weren't always right (or even just, for that matter). But the cop was the naive type; to him, Envy thought, 'Big Brother' was always right.

Hughes seemed to feel that he had gotten his point across clearly enough, because he didn't say another word as he opened the door to one of the sterile, white rooms and signaled for them to step inside.

---

Edward yawned widely, slumping at the table. Even though it was a Wednesday morning, he was still home - because of the bomb threat, all of the students had been kept from school. It was likely that they wouldn't be going back for the rest of the week, also, meaning the school year would end without much ado on behalf of the faculty. Which meant no end-of-school 'parties' that kids used as an excuse for hooking up or getting high, or field days where more than half of the student body ditched. Ed could live quite comfortably without those sad excuses for celebrations.

Sighing, he glanced at the clock. It was only nine-thirty in the morning, and he had already been up for an hour and a half. For some strange reason, Al had decided to get him out of bed before he left for school. Edward would have liked to believe that it was out of spite, but he knew Al just didn't want him wasting his whole morning. Rubbing his eyes and pillowing his chin on his hand, he idly flipped through the newspaper. Surprisingly, there was no mention of the 'act of terror' at Central High. Perhaps the school had repressed the media for fear of public reaction.

Not that the public would have cared much, anyway. Of course, there would be those that raised a fuss about the issue of safety, and used the threat as an opportunity to preach to the city council and the government, but those were few and far between. Mostly, no one gave a second thought to the plight of those attending the city's only government-funded institution.

After all, Central High was _not_ a nice school. Underfunded, underdeveloped, and underachieving, it was home to delinquents, druggies, and gangsters - the rejects of society. Ed sometimes wished he hadn't gone to the public school, but he really had no choice. After all, if he had done what he wished and attended Hartzell's School for Boys, Rio Bravo Charter High, St. Charles, or any of those _reputable_ schools, the family wouldn't have had enough money to send Al to the same place. Meaning Ed's little brother would be thrust into the morass of crime that composed Central High.

No matter how much Alphonse could get on his nerves, or how much he hated school, Edward could _never_ sacrifice Al just to get a good education. Family bonds were worth more than that. Thus, he bravely offered himself up to the substandard, subhuman tutelage.

Suddenly the phone rang, startling him from his reflections. Who could be calling this early? Yawning again, Ed shuffled over to the small, cluttered desk and picked up the phone. "Hello?"

A gravelly voice crackled through the earpiece. "_Good morning. This is Bido Gonzales from Ouroboros Health, Incorporated. I would like to inform you that your yearly payment is overdue by five months. If we do not receive the money by June thirtieth, two-thousand-seven, we will have no choice but to cut off your health insurance. Please take note of this and send us the payment as soon as possible. Have a nice day!_"

Before Edward could reply with whatever witty dialogue he had thought of during the message, there was a click and a loud dial tone. That insurance bastard had hung up on him! Growling, Ed slammed down the phone. Apparently they were late with their insurance payment now, too. He would have to call his no-good father and remind him he forgot _that_ payment too.

Ed had just picked up the phone to dial Hohenheim's number when the phone rang once more. Jabbing the 'talk' button, he pressed it to his ear angrily.

"What now?!"

"_Geez, Ed, calm down_." came Rayes's voice. Ed gave a nervous laugh.

"Heh. Sorry about that, Rayes. I thought you were another one of those insurance guys."

"_Bills_?"

"Yeah. Anyway, what's up? Why are you calling so early?" From what Ed knew of his friend, Rayes made a habit of sleeping in until at least _noon _on days off. For him to be up before ten o'clock was nothing short of a miracle.

He could almost hear the shrug in Rayes's voice as the teenager replied. "_My mom forgot I wasn't going to school today, so she got me up and everything. I was too awake to go back to sleep. But I wanted to talk to you_."

"About what?" Edward asked, although he had a feeling he already knew.

There was a slight pause, as though he was thinking of what to say, and then came the outburst. "_Dude! I can't believe you broke up with _Winry_! And for Lyra! Geez! What were you _thinking_? Winry's been your girlfriend for _forever" Ed rolled his eyes as his friend ranted. When it came to gossip, Rayes had a mind like a steel trap - he wouldn't let go of some juicy tidbit of information until he had squeezed out all the information he could. Even if Edward attempted to subtly change the subject, they would end up back at Winry in no time. He had no choice but to submit to Rayes's interrogation.

"It really isn't that big of a deal, Rayes. I mean, you've broken up with plenty of girlfriends, haven't you?" Ed wasn't sure, but he assumed Rayes had gone out with plenty of girls. After all, the guy was practically a fountain of love advice. But, then again, the awkward silence made him suspect differently. "Okay, maybe not, but _still_. Winry's not that mad about me breaking up with her either."

"_Why _not_? Any girl would be pissed if their boyfriend broke up with them and got with _another_ girl the same day! Are you sure she's not just hiding her anger_?" No matter how fond he was of the guy, Ed had to admit it. Rayes did a pretty good (albeit unintentional) impression of Oprah.

Ed sighed. "Look - she's cool with me breaking up with her, and I'm cool with her and Lyra. We've got it all worked out." /Except for maybe Lyra,/ he thought, but kept his doubts silent. "And besides, it didn't bug her that much when I said I wanted to break up with her. She was actually quite nice about it." /Meaning she just slapped me in the face instead of castrating and murdering me./

From Rayes's skeptical tone, it was clear he felt that Ed's story didn't quite check out. "_But, dude. That doesn't even make sense! Why would Winry give you up to Lyra? Don't they hate each other? I'm surprised they didn't start a catfight in the middle of the parking lot yesterday. You need to tell me _everything"

Idly, Edward wondered what Rayes would think if he told him the _whole_ truth. /You see, Winry's a lesbian and she just wanted me to go out with her so people wouldn't think she likes girls. Then I decided I wanted to start dating Lyra and we broke up. She wasn't too happy at first but now she's decided to finally be herself./ He snorted. _That_ would go over like a ton of bricks.

"_C'mon Ed, tell me!_" Rayes said, and he realized he had been silent for the better part of a minute. "_I'm going to summer camp next Monday, so this is like the only chance I'll have to ask you about all this!_"

"Okay, fine." Edward rolled his eyes, and made an effort to come up with a plausible story. He needed to start thinking like Rayes. What would his friend believe? ...Something that sounded like it came off of Dr. Phil. Right. "You know how Winry and I were going out for three years?" he began, thinking desperately. "In the beginning, we were really crushing on each other. But then we kind of drifted apart during the past year or so, and we didn't like each other _that way_ so much. And then I guess I started noticing Lyra more, because she _is_ really hot, y'know, and it turned out she liked me back. And so I decided that since Winry and I didn't really feel anything for each other anymore, ti was time for us to get a chance to meet new people, because really, we aren't _married_ or anything. And when I told her, she agreed, and, so... here we are now."

There was a long silence from the other end of the line, and Ed began to worry that Rayes hadn't believed a word of what he had said.

"Um... hello?"

Ed was so startled when Rayes burst out laughing that he almost dropped the phone. "_Seriously? That sounds like something that came off Oprah!_"

"Haha, I know, doesn't it?" Edward said weakly, making a face. Luckily for him, Rayes was a bit dense. With Ling, for example, that explanation would probably have never worked. "So... are you done interrogating me?" he asked, subtly hinting that he wanted to get off the phone.

"_Yeah, it's cool man. But did you hear about who did the bomb-stuff yesterday?_" Rayes had apparently failed to take the suggestion. But Ed was curious about _who_ would have been idiotic enough to set off cherry bombs in the administrative building, so he didn't bother coming up with an excuse and hanging up.

"Who?" Maybe it was that white supremacist gang. Maybe it had been the Mexican immigrant gang... Both of them could have gotten together against the black power gang, even. Or all _three_ of the groups could have worked to overthrow the administration. That was always a possibility.

Rayes chuckled. "_You'll never guess_."

"Then _tell_ me!"

There was a dramatic pause, before Rayes announced, "_Envy_."

Ed snorted. "I'm not surprised." he replied. "That stupid rich bastard probably thought it would be _funny_ to try and kill us all. It's just the kind of thing he would do for a laugh. I'd like to see _him_ nearly get killed!" He realized he was ranting again, but it didn't matter. What the hell had that _idiot_ been thinking? Damn rich bastards. They had no right to fuck with ordinary people's lives like that. Just because someone was rich doesn't mean they could be all-powerful.

"_Geez, Ed. Calm down. It's just a rumor._" Like _Rayes_ should be the one telling _him_ not to get worked up over a rumor. It was worse than the pot calling the kettle black - at least the pot didn't watch shows that gave relationship advice. "_Anyway, I also heard that Kimbley was with him_."

If there was anyone that Ed could possibly despise more than Envy (and Roy), it was _Kimbley_. The slimy anarchist was always lurking somewhere, adding the 'A' graffitti to the desks and scrawling it in the halls. There were rumors that he operated a secret drug-smuggling ring, and Ed wouldn't put it past him. "I'm not surprised by _that_, either. Anyway, Al wants me to go shopping since I'm home, so I better get out now before it gets hot. We have to visit Mom this afternoon."

"_Okay, see ya Ed. I'll try and get a postcard to you from camp, or something. Have fun shopping_."

"Will do, Rayes. Bye!" With some relief, Ed hung up. It wasn't that Rayes was annoying, _per se_. It was just that he had better things to do than gossip all morning. Sighing again, he trudged down the hall to his room to get dressed. From the look of the bright blue sky outside, it was going to be a _very _hot day.

As he pulled a white t-shirt over his head, he mentally reviewed their shopping list for the week. /Let's see... Carrots, soup, a package of chicken thighs, some of those TV dinners, _milk,_/ - Ed shuddered - /and ice cream./ He didn't really bother to think over his conversation with Rayes: Envy been an idiot, Kimbley was a slimy bastard, and Ed's best friend liked Oprah. There wasn't really much to care about. It was just gossip, after all.

_'Somebody Told Me' - The Killers  
__Reviews are appreciated; constructive criticism is adored._


	5. Chapter 5

_i worked my _ass_ off to get this to you, but my aunt was over last weekend and i had limited access to my own computer, let alone the internet. so i'm really sorry this is about three weeks late. i'll do better next time, i promise. at least it's a long(ish) chapter to make up for it, right?_

**Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous**

**Chapter Five**  
_the bitter end_

Envy fumed as he stomped up the gigantic cement terraces that composed his front porch. He still couldn't believe how the principal had talked to him - to them. What an absolute _prick_. What a stupid little piece of _shit_. He growled as he jabbed the doorbell, holding the buzzer for longer than was probably necessary.

What the hell had the man been thinking? "'Kimbley, your behavior yesterday was simply _unacceptable_,'" he mocked, making a face. "'I'm sorry, but we cannot tolerate this type of behavior at Central High.'" Ha. That was the biggest b.s. job Envy had ever heard. Apparently, the administration did not tolerate threats on their well-being, even when they let everything else go to hell.

"Dammit!" he cursed, kicking the door and pressing the doorbell again. Where the hell was Dorchet?

In the corner of his eye, Envy could see his escort still waiting in his idling police cruiser. Sighing, he slumped slightly, reliving what had transpired in the interrogation room.

_"I am very disappointed by your behavior, boys." the man said. He was portly and balding with a dark shadow of a mustache on his upper lip, and was still wearing the sweat-stained blue shirt he had been dressed in yesterday. It seemed like the poor man had been up all night. "We _will_ not put up with such violence at Central High." He must have forgotten the huge gang fight last year, Envy reminisced. "The faculty has conversed and decided on the proper punishments for each of you. But first, I wanted to ask you, why? Why did you feel the need to endanger the lives of your peers and your teachers through this foolishness?"_

_Kimbley gave the man his best deadpan look, glaring slightly out of yellow eyes. "For anarchy." he stated simply and slowly, and Envy saw the principal wince._

_"But why?" the man asked, even though his eyes were wide and very creeped out. "Aren't there better ways to reach your goals than bloodshed?"_

_"Not when idiots like you are in charge."_

_"Oh, _burn_." Envy muttered, doing his best not to laugh at the principal as he managed to look hurt, indignant, embarrassed, and flustered all at once. Whatever anyone said against Kimbley, they had to admit - he was able to think of the _greatest_ comebacks._

_Apparently the man had decided that Kimbley wasn't worth his efforts, for he turned to Envy with appealing eyes. "And you? What made you decide to commit this folly? Did you think about the consequences?"_

_Envy paused for a moment, then decided to have some fun. "Oh, but Kimbley and I do _everything _together!" he said, raising his voice into a falsetto tone and speaking with a slight lisp. "I love him _so_ much!" Here he smiled, making his eyes as wide and innocent as possible. "We're, like, _inseparable_!" Both Kimbley and the man gave him a sharp look, to which he replied with a coy smile. "Did I mention we were going to get married?"_

_Finally the junior realized he was joking, but the principal still hadn't caught on. He looked slightly queasy at Envy's adopted mannerisms, and turned away. "_Well_, then." he said, adjusting his collar uncomfortably. "That proves to me that you two didn't think ahead at _all_, and that your actions were from your teenage _stupidity_." /How does it prove _that_?/ Envy wondered, but shrugged. Whatever. "This leaves me with no choice but to present your punishments."_

_La-di-dah, pause for emphasis, what a ham. As the principal took a deep breath, inflating his already bloated chest, both Envy and Kimbley rolled their eyes._

_"Zolf J. Kimbley, I regret to inform you of your immediate expulsion from Central High." Envy gave Kimbley a look. His first name was '_Zolf_'? What the hell? Then the implications of the principal's sentence made him take the man seriously._

_He looked aghast at the man. "What? You're fucking kidding, right?"_

_"Yes, I am _serious_, and I would prefer if you did not use that type of language, Mr. Envy."_

_Envy brushed off the last part of his statement and turned his head from the principal to Kimbley. To his surprise, the junior was just shrugging and smiling evilly. _He_ seemed fine. But... they weren't supposed to get in trouble! The administration was just supposed to let it go! When Kimbley shrugged and gave him a 'Drop it and leave it alone look', he bit his lip and glared at the principal. "So what's _my_ punishment?"_

_"Since, according to witnesses, you were just an accomplice, I am suspending you for the rest of the school year and barring you from any summer extracurricular activities."_

Envy was shaken out of his memories by a touch of fur on his scantily-clad leg."Hullo, cat." he mumbled to the gray, short-haired feline that was twining its way around his ankles. Growling, Envy punched the doorbell again. Where the hell was everyone? This was becoming slightly embarrassing. The last thing he needed was to be locked out, on top of everything else.

_Finally_ he heard the sound of the lock being turned on the other side. As soon as the door was opened a crack, Dante's cat slipped in and disappeared in the shadows. Envy waited outside until whoever had opened the door showed their face. He didn't want to be greeted by some kind of robber in a ski mask - that had actually happened once.

But the person turned out to be Dorchet, greased-back dark hair and all. He gave Envy a look of utter disdain as he stood aside, motioning to the policeman that it was okay to leave. Envy strode inside without a word of acknowledgement. He felt a wave of cool, sterile air wash over him, and breathed in deeply. No matter how clean those holding cells were, a hot shower and his own bed would be so much more comfortable.

Remarkably, he managed to get across the hall and up the stairs without seeing Dante _or_ Greed. That in itself was surprising: they hadn't showed up to mete out whatever punishment they had decided on. He had been expecting a major confrontation as soon as he walked inside, complete with shouting, screaming, swearing, and maybe some hairbrush-throwing. Envy wasn't sure if he should be disappointed that they didn't think his transgression serious enough to merit repercussions, or relieved that he wouldn't have to dodge flying hair care items. He was leaning more towards the latter.

---

Dante was _flawless_. She never let anyone tell her otherwise - after all, what other word was there for an actress, singer, model, and all-around superstar who made upwards of two million for just showing up on a set? She was coveted, she was idolized, she was supreme. She refused to let even anything around her be tainted by imperfection, because she had a deathly fear that it could rub off on her and she would have to watch a twenty year, amazingly successful career spiral down the drain.

So it was understandable that she was rather _displeased_ when she found out her son had been incarcerated by the Central City police force.

"What the _hell_ was he thinking?!" she screeched, grabbing a dusty atlas and hurling it at Greed, who was sitting calmly in his chair. He caught it and placed it carefully on the table beside him. "Who the _hell_ does he think he is?!" She cast about for something else to throw. The phone was already lying in pieces on the floor, and the cherrywood paneling was dented from the impact of multiple missiles.

Greed cleared his throat, judging it was best to begin calming her down now. "I'm sure we can work something out with the presses." he said mildly, recrossing his legs. "So far the editor has been most-" He was cut off by a jeweled box barely missing his nose. It crashed against the wall and broke into colorful fragments.

"I don't care what the newspaper editor thinks!" Dante shrieked at the top of her lungs. "What about our _reputation_?! I can't have it ruined by some snot-nosed, half-assed, stupid _brat_ who thinks the world revolves around _him_!" She blindly grabbed a ceramic mug full of pens and hurled it and the door. It shattered and writing utensils spun across the floor in a symphony of clatters.

"Dante!" She was startled out of her raging by her husband, who had stood up and was grabbing her arms, pinning them to her sides. "_Calm down_. You're making too big of a deal out of this."

She struggled and spat wildly, like a frenzied cat. "Too big?" she screamed. "_Too big_?! He let off a fucking _bomb_ in his fucking _school_! How is that _not_ a big deal?! Get _off_ me!" Throughout her temper tantrum, Greed kept a firm grip on her, preventing her escape.

"Are you finished?" he asked calmly, leading her to one of the cushioned wooden armchairs and forcing her to sit. "Ready to stop throwing things and wrecking my study?"

She growled at him, then took a deep breath and let the color fade from her cheeks, using thirty years of acting experience to suppress her anger. When she looked up again, her eyes were clear and her face was untroubled. "Yes." she replied. Dante hated it when Greed tried to control of her - for all intents and purposes, _she_ was the one who had married _him_ - but she was willing to let this time slide. Now that she was relatively calm, she would be able to think of an _appropriate_ punishment for her wayward son.

"Good." Greed replied, oblivious to the malicious thoughts running through the mind of his wife. He returned to his chair. "Now. If we pay off the presses, they'll shut up about the story. And if they _refuse_, I can just fire the executive." Greed's corporation, _Ouroboros_, held most of the Central Times' investments. "I'm certain that the principal will be satisfied with some kind of 'contribution' to the school, and there's no point in ending Envy's suspension - there are only three days of school left, after all. As for the police force, if they make a fuss we can give them some kind of charitable donation." He looked up from where he had been contemplating his meshed fingers to see his wife's reaction.

Dante was looking out the window contemplatively, appearing completely detached from the situation. Her hair was still ridiculously messy, and she hadn't yet had a chance to get dressed - she was wearing a blue silk nightgown and a white bathrobe. She exuded an air of uncontrolled insanity, and Greed shuddered as he watched the her eyes grow malevolent. "Call Envy." she stated coldly. When Greed didn't move, she turned to look at him with barely controlled rage. "_Now_."

---

The shower felt absolutely heavenly after a day in a jail cell. Envy let the water run over him blissfully, breathing in steam and the lilac scent of his shampoo. (The girls loved that fragrance.) After he washed the suds out of his hair for the fifth time, and rinsed his body again for good measure, he pulled back the curtains and stepped out, grabbing a fluffy white towel and opening the bathroom door.

He was met by the stocky butler, Dorchet, holding a bathrobe.

"Shit!" Envy yelled, jumping back and pulling the towel tighter around him. "What the heck, Dorchet?" The man never came into Envy's private rooms, _ever_. It was, like, a violation of his contract. With that thought, the teenager grinned. He could get Dorchet fired!

"I'm here on your parents orders." the dark-haired man said smugly, seeming to have read his thoughts. "They want you to meet them in the study _now_."

Envy raised an eyebrow. His hair was dripping, he left wet footprints, and his only clothing was a towel that had been hastily wrapped around his waist. "Right _now_?" he asked. Dorchet ran his eyes up and down his body, and Envy took an involuntary half-step back. /He's raping me with his eyes!/ he whined mentally, hitching up the towel slightly.

"Oh, I don't think they'll mind if you're not fully dressed." the manservant told him, giving a tight grin. Envy glared. He and Dorchet had never liked each other, and the butler was unable to resist any chance to needle his supposed charge.

"Oh, I'm sure they will." Envy replied, in a mockingly subservient manner. "As long as you're here, why don't you get me some clothes. Remember, they want me 'right away', so you had better be quick about it." Having gained the upper hand, he smiled benignly at Dorchet, who growled and hurried to the closet.

Thirty seconds later, a black silk bathrobe was shoved into his waiting hands with enough force to make him nearly drop the towel. Envy made a face as he held it up. "I meant _real_ clothes, Dorchet." he said disgustedly. He hated playboy stuff like this.

The butler shrugged. "I'm sure this will be decent enough for your parents. You had better hurry and put it on, they want you right away." That smug, pompous _ass_, Envy thought venomously. He had managed to use the teenager's own words against him.

"Fine." Envy spat, slamming the door in the butler's face. Quickly, he pulled on the robe, cinching it tight about his waist and wishing Dorchet had the decency to grab him some boxers, too. A few minutes later, he was as dressed as he would ever be.

Dorchet rolled his eyes as Envy came out awkwardly. "Took you long enough." he muttered, turning and heading towards the door. Deftly, Envy stuck out a foot to trip him and stepped in front as he stumbled. Served him right, the bastard, the teenager thought self-righteously as he took care to close his bedroom door before the butler had a chance to get out. Laughing, he skipped down the stairs to his parents' study.

---

As he opened the door to admit Envy, Greed looked around curiously. "Where's Dorchet?" he asked his stepson. Given the mood Dante was in, he would feel more comfortable if there was a non-family member around to keep her in mind of her boundaries.

The teenager shrugged with his usual 'fuck you' attitude. "I guess he got lost." he replied innocently. Greed took a moment to wonder why he was clad only in a skimpy bathrobe, then shrugged. If Envy felt like being a slut, it was his problem. Greed had bigger things to worry about... like whether Dante was insane enough to commit an actual murder. (Heaven knows, she was _angry_ enough.)

"Good morning, Envy." his wife said coldly. "Did you have a good sleep last night?" The ice-cold fury was still present behind her eyes, and it was obvious she was barely restraining herself from leaping at her son's throat.

"Oh, it was all right, y'know..." Envy replied, turning his back on his mother and pretending to examine one of the multiple shelves in the large room. He made a show of selecting a green leather-bound book and leafing through it before adding, "Did you sleep well?" Even though his manner was nonchalant, Greed knew the teenager had grasped the deadly atmosphere from the way his shoulders were tensed. Yet, even though he knew he was an inch away from sudden death, it appeared that Envy couldn't resist taunting Dante.

The woman narrowed her eyes at her son's back, but managed to reply with mock civility. "It was marvelous."

"Glad to hear it." Envy replied with absent politeness. He placed the green book carelessly back on the shelf and moved on to a red one.

There was a tense silence between the two, and Greed took the moment to compare mother and son. Their similarities were startling, although Envy might deny it vehemently if Greed said so out loud. Both had the same catlike violet eyes and the same way of smoothing their faces completely when they were tense. Dante was a genius in suppressing her emotions to leave her voice with simply a polite inflection, and Envy could do just as well, although he was more prone to violent outbursts. And both, Greed could say for certain, were slightly insane.

He was jolted from his musings when Dante began to speak. "I don't think you quite understand the situation you have gotten yourself into." she said softly, crossing her fingers in her lap. Envy turned around to facer her as she continued, meeting her eyes levelly. "You have gotten us into quite a mess. The unwanted publicity you have gained for yourself through your thoughtless act could make you - and _me_ - the front page of every tabloid in the western U.S., and then some."

Envy raised a brow. "I thought you liked-" he began, but Dante held up a forbidding hand.

"_Let me continue_." she said, managing to sound threatening without raising her voice at all. The teenager glared dangerously but shut his mouth. Greed raised his eyebrows. Apparently even _Envy_ knew how much was too much.

"For years I have tried to impress upon you the importance of your conduct." Dante continued, as if she hadn't been interrupted at all. "_Thousands_ of cheap journalists are out there just waiting for a single scandal that they can use to cast our family name into disgrace." Greed sincerely doubted there were _that_ many, but his wife's hyperbole did serve to get the point across rather well.

Envy looked skeptical. "I'm sure that-" he began. Dante gave him her _look_ and he immediately shut his mouth.

She took a deep breath before continuing. "This incident has proven to me that you have absolutely no concern for your reputation or the reputations of those around you. Simply put, you lack discretion."

Greed nodded, and Envy shot him a glare. Geez. The kid could be so sensitive sometimes. But no matter how much the teenager protested, Dante spoke the truth. Greed would never say it out loud, of course, but his stepson was one spoiled rotten son of a bitch.

Oblivious to her companions' silent exchange, Dante continued speaking. As she lectured, her resolve had seemed to grow and she had been progressively straightening up. "This leaves me," she stated with an air of finality, "no choice." The room grew deathly silent as both Greed and Envy waited for her judgment with bated breath.

"Since you have demonstrated, over and over again, your lack of discretion, I can rest assured that you will only be a hindrance to your father-" ("_Stepfather_," Envy muttered, and was ignored.) "and I. I am forced to disown you. Envy, you are no longer a member of this family. Get out."

There was a moment of silence as her words were being digested. Greed was the first to speak. "Excuse me?" he all but yelled, shocked. He knew Dante was going to issue some awful consequences, but he had never expected something like _this_. Gaping, he turned around to see Envy's reaction.

The book had dropped from his stepson's frozen fingers and was lying in a musty pile on the floor. Envy was taking turns staring at Dante and Greed as if he was trying to decide whether this was some kind of cruel joke. Poor kid. Greed wondered when he would realize it _wasn't_.

"I told you, _get out_." Dante was smiling at her son as she spoke, and Greed shuddered involuntarily. He silently congratulated himself for always making an effort to stay on his wife's good side.

Envy looked back and forth between them once more. "What?" he spluttered, stunned. He had let his self-assured demeanor slip away, exposing a frightened child. "You _can't_ be serious."

His mother remained emotionless. "Go." When Envy still refused to move, her eyes narrowed and her lip curled into a sort-of sneer. "Greed, take him to his room, have him pack a bag, and then make sure he leaves."

Greed's eyes widened. Why did _he_ have to be cast as the bad guy in this soap-worthy drama? "Are you-"

"_Go!_" Dante shrieked, her inner demons clearly visible in crazed purple eyes. She was half standing in her chair and her fists were clenched on the leather armrests.

Quickly, her husband grabbed Envy's arm and hustled him out of the study. When Dante was in one of _these_ moods, the smartest thing was to listen to what she said and to get the hell out of her way. Fast.

_'The Bitter End' - Placebo  
Reviews are appreciated, constructive criticism is adored._


	6. Chapter 6

_happy (late) halloween!_

**Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous**

**Chapter Six**  
_boulevard of broken dreams_

Envy's mind raced as he grabbed his favorite clothes and stuffed them into a knapsack. Could his mother be serious? Were they really disowning him, forever? (Wasn't there some kind of complex legal process required for that?) Envy thought not. They _couldn't_ just drop him like an unwanted shoelace. Sure, he had made some stupid mistakes. Sure, he and his mother didn't have the greatest relationship in the world. But they wouldn't abandon him.

Would they?

It was probably some kind of mean-spirited prank, the kind Dante always enjoyed playing. She wanted to make him sweat, let him walk to the end of the driveway, and then call him back. Of _course_! That was what they had to be planning.

Well, then. Envy refused to beg and plead just for his mother's satisfaction. He would go and go willingly, so he, _Envy_, would be the one laughing when Dante made him return. That was the way to go.

"You know, I really don't want to have to do this." Greed said from behind him. His stepdad had crossed his arms and was leaning nonchalantly against the doorframe.

"That so?" Envy asked absently as he grabbed his iPod, toothbrush, and shampoo. Now that he had figured out his parents game, he was unable to hide the undercurrent of amusement in his voice.

Greed sighed. "You really gave us no choice, Envy." The regret in his voice was obviously forced. The guy had never been that great of an actor. ("_I'm glad I'm able to start a new life with you and your mom!" "I'm sure we'll be great friends!" "You'll do fine!"_ Yeah right.)

"Hn." To Envy's surprise, everything was able to fit in his backpack. It bulged a bit, yes, and the zipper refused to close all the way, but it worked. It was fine for a walk down to the end of the driveway and back. Shouldering it, he straightened.

"Ready?" his stepdad asked. Without waiting for Envy's reply, he led the teenager out of his room and down the stairs. Dorchet was waiting at the front door, holding it open pointedly. Envy gave him a scorching look as he clomped past on the fine marble tile. The butler merely smirked.

Outside, the temperature must have been up in the high nineties, at least. A sheen of sweat broke out on Envy's forehead almost immediately after he exited his house's air-conditioned bliss, and even his short shorts and gauzy tank top grew uncomfortably warm. He gritted his teeth - it would be a workout even to get to the end of the long driveway - and started on his way.

He was stopped by a touch on his arm. Greed was in the shade, holding out a plastic square. When Envy took it, the object turned out to be a shiny white Visa card. The teenager raised an eyebrow. "Just in case." Greed told him. "I'll give you whatever money you need. Just don't tell Dante."

"...Right." Envy said, pocketing the valuable card. When he was called back in, like, five minutes, he would make a point _not_ to return the goods. Reluctantly, he continued. "Thanks." Greed waved without saying a word, and Envy continued on his way.

It was a very un_Greed_-like thing to just give away a credit card like that, and Envy couldn't resist casting a glance over his shoulder to the figure silhouetted in the entryway. If he was just going to the street and back, he wouldn't have gotten the credit card, right? Or did Greed's unexpected generosity come from the fact that he himself didn't know about Dante's jokes? The teenager shook his head. Ten more steps... five more steps... he was on the sidewalk. Would Dante call him back now, or would she wait until he was at the end of the street and then send Dorchet to pick him up?

Yeah, that was it. That explained why no one was shouting for him to return. That was _exactly_ it. Well, he wouldn't give his parents the satisfaction of looking back. He turned left at the end of the driveway for no reason besides the fact that he liked that direction, and ambled aimlessly forward. The road turned into a steep downhill curve as it left his parents' house and descended into the poorer regions of town - as in, everywhere besides the 'Sin Mansion', as people liked to call it. There were no really nearby houses - the land was advertised as 'private and secluded' - and what dwellings there were, were nearly as large as his. Envy wondered what the neighbors would think if they saw him shuffling around like a hobo.

Well, at least he had his iPod. And his cell phone. And a collection of a few CDs and a portable disc player. And, of course, his comb. _That_ was important. So, even if Dante decided to string this prank out a little longer, he was prepared. So if Dorchet didn't come honking in the limousine at the end of the boulevard, he was set for at least an hour or two.

But the butler _was_ going to pick him up, because that was the way his family worked. You mess up, they let you sweat for a bit, then everything works out. That's what _always_ happened. Always. No exceptions. Ever. Envy nodded. He had no need to look scared or confused or hurt or worried, because he had this little game all figured out. And even though he was getting closer and closer to the intersection, he refused to turn around and beg for mercy. It was all a matter of pride. Dorchet should be coming any minute now...

When he reached the corner, there was still no sign of a sleek, black, suspicious-looking Mercedes-Benz. There was no sign of _any _car, whatsoever, aside from those that sporadically whizzed by at the crossroads. They were going the wrong way to belong to any member of his family. Well, then. Dante was probably keeping the butler a few extra minutes; giving him instructions on how to behave or what to say. That had to be it. So he could just wait for five or so minutes, then the nasty little man would be rolling down his window and asking if he needed a ride.

Envy snickered. That made his butler sound like some kind of kidnapping pedophile. (Not that he wasn't... Dorchet was rather vague on the specifics of his _private life_.)

Well, there was no point in standing around like he was in any hurry to get anywhere. The teenager leaned against the streetlight and slid down so he was eventually sitting with his arms wrapped around his knees. He wished the light gave more shade. The heat was oppressive, and he was going to get sunburnt if he stayed out much longer. Dante _really_ needed to hurry up with her instructions.

---

Five hours later, Envy was fairly certain no one was coming to pick him up. He was stiff, slightly sunburnt, and - although he would never admit it out loud - close to screaming with frustration. So his mother _had_ meant it when she said 'get out'. He was really, truly being disowned.

He stood up quickly, then nearly fell as his legs cramped and his knees nearly buckled. Wincing, he straightened again, leaning on the lamppost for support. Suddenly... "Dammit!" he shouted, stamping his foot and growling, not caring that people were probably staring from their luxurious, _air-conditioned_ cars. Why the _hell_ had his parents done this to him? _How_ the hell had they done it? "I fucking hate you!" he screamed, kicking at the streetlight and bruising his toes.

A stream of curses escaped his lips as he looked around, wincing at the pain in his foot. Where could he go now? Who could come and pick him up? Absently, numbly, he began walking, turning down the street and heading towards the center of Central. His feet carried him past the few other mansions on the road and into the more populated part of town. Rows and rows of neat, suburban houses went by. Envy didn't see any of them.

The teenager's mind was working furiously as he paced blindly. He needed someplace to spend the night, which was approaching faster and faster - it was already nearly seven o'clock in the afternoon, and the shadows were lengthening. Envy ran through his options. Undoubtedly, the smartest thing was to have someone pick him up. But... who?

Suddenly, he grinned. There was only one person to call in times like this. Quickly, he procured his cell phone and dialed.

"_Go the fuck away_." came a bleary voice through the earpiece after five rings.

Envy laughed. "Hey, Kimbley." The junior was his usual chipper self.

"_Oh, it's you_." Kimbley observed in a voice sticky with sleep. Envy imagined him kicking off his covers and hauling his ass out of bed. What a lazy bum, sleeping the day away like that. "_Didn't I just see you this morning? What do you want?_"

The teenager debated whether to lead into his request or to be blunt. He settled for a compromise between the two. "My parents kind of kicked me out of the house. Forever."

"..." Envy could practically see Kimbley raising an eyebrow. "_So what am I supposed to do? Pick you up?_"

Wow, brilliant deduction, Sherlock. "Pretty much." At least there hadn't been much beating around the bush. They both knew when to get to the point. "Can you?"

The junior sighed into the phone. It sounded like a loud rush of static. "_I suppose..._" he replied, as though Envy was asking him to risk life and limb, instead of for a simple ride to his house. "_Where the fuck are you?_"

For the first time, the teenager looked at his surroundings. He was encircled by rows and rows of white-stuccoed, red-roofed suburban houses with neatly mowed grassy yards and the occasional supersized SUV parked out in front. "Um..." he said, casting about for a street sign. "I have absolutely no idea."

"_Then how the _hell_ am I supposed to pick you up?_" Wow, Kimbley was really going heavy on the curse words. Not that Envy blamed him - he would probably be just as frustrated if some ass was asking _him_ for a ride without knowing where they were.

"Hang on..." The teenager walked quickly towards the nearest intersection. "I'm at..." He squinted up at the green names above the stop sign. "Rosas and San Bernardino."

There was a short pause, then Kimbley spat, "_Where the fuck is that?"_ Envy winced at both the tone and his language - geez, someone needed a chill pill. "_Never mind. Do you know how to get to that Safeway on Marcus Street? I think that's close to where you are now."_

"Hunh?" Envy asked, confused. Since he couldn't drive, street names held no importance for him. He thought he had heard 'Marcus' mentioned before, but he had no idea how to get to it from his ambiguous neighborhood location and he really didn't want to walk that far.

Kimbley sighed again. "_Tch. Forget that. I'll try and find you. Call me if you go anywhere."_

Before Envy could reply, the line went dead. He rolled his eyes - the junior could have been a bit more reassuring - he _was_ coming, right? Kimbley hadn't sounded to certain that he could find him. Might as well try and get to that street he was going on about...

---

"Yo, Kimbley." Envy said into the phone, trying to sound 'ghetto' enough to look badass but not enough to be _shanked_. "I found that supermarket you wanted to meet me at." He was currently leaning against the stucco wall of said grocery store, looking nonchalant and ignoring the curious stares of passerby. It had taken him about twenty minutes to get out of the damn neighborhood, let alone to find the Safeway, but he was here now and Kimbley had better get his ass over soon to pick him up.

'_Shit, Envy_.' the junior replied. '_I'm in the fucking neighborhood where you fucking said you were!_'

Oops. Envy winced at the anger in Kimbley's tone. And here he thought he was being a good little boy by finding their original meeting spot. Apparently his heroic efforts in locating 'Marcus Street' were in vain. He made a face. "Well ex_cuse_ me." Jeez. Didn't anyone appreciate him? It was bad enough that his parents _disowned_ him - he didn't need to be taking shit from his so-called best friend.

He heard a screeching brake and a few muttered curses before Kimbley replied. '_I don't even know why I'm doing this for you_.' he said, his voice staticky from the cell phone's faulty reception. '_You owe me _big time_, bitch._' Despite his words, he sounded as though he was in a much better mood than before.

Envy hung up without replying - after all, what can one say to a comment like that? "Damn him and his stupid mood swings." he muttered. The guy really, _really_ needed to go see a shrink. Sighing and rolling his eyes, he returned to leaning back against the warm, tan wall. The sun had nearly set, and the sky was dark blue with twilight. He wondered when he would be picked up, and what he would do afterwards.

He touched the hard plastic outline of the credit card in his pocket as though it was some kind of talisman. It was probably best _not _to think.

---

Five minutes later, Kimbley's car had pulled up to the curb in all its navy blue, faded glory. The small, beat up Mazda had definitely seen better days - its engine smoked when it went above thirty miles per hour, the transmission constantly needed changes, and even salesmen at the used car dealership refused to accept it - but Envy had never been happier to see a car in his life. Quickly, he jiggled open the front passenger door (it never worked the first time) and slipped inside onto the comfortable yet worn seat.

"So." said Kimbley as soon as the door slammed shut. "You got kicked out? No more rich-guy mansion?" He looked amused, glancing sideways at Envy for his reaction. "Mommy and Daddy got tired of your little games?" His voice was sugary sweet with sarcasm.

Envy blushed - he hated it when Kimbley would treat him like some spoiled rich brat. "Shut up." he growled, turning away to look out the window so he wouldn't have to meet the sarcastic yellow gaze. "Dante was being a fucking _bitch_, and Greed didn't even stop her." Not that it hadn't been expected, Envy grumbled inwardly. "She said that I had 'gotten out of hand' or some crap like that, and her reputation was too important for me to go around fucking it up." Sighing, and not sure whether to feel angry or betrayed, the teenager drew his feet up onto the seat and wrapped his arms around his knees.

"Sucks." the junior replied succinctly, screeching to a halt at a red light and smoothing back his slightly greasy hair into a ponytail. Envy hadn't anticipated much of a reply, but that was rude even by Kimbley's standards. He sighed again.

The streetlights cast an orange glow on their faces as the silence in the car grew more and more pronounced and the summer heat ebbed slowly away. Through the corner of his eye, Envy watched the flickering glow play over Kimbley's face, highlighting a sharp nose and long eyelashes. For once, the slightly cruel eyes were softened with indifference and perhaps sleepiness as the streets rolled past. Kimbley loved driving, Envy remembered. Many a time, they had ditched class to simply go around town in his clunker, exploring new side streets and sometimes heading out on the freeway to nowhere.

"Mind if I smoke?" the junior asked, startling him out of his stupor. He pulled over to park on the side of the rode and climbed out, slipping a pack of cigarettes from under the seat.

Envy was a bit nonplussed. "...No problem." he replied hesitantly. It wasn't as though Kimbley would _stop_ smoking and get back into the car just to humor him. Shrugging, he followed the ponytailed junior as he meandered into the shadows of an alleyway. Their location was vaguely recognizable - Envy thought the district elementary school was somewhere nearby.

The strangely alluring scent of tobacco filled the air as Kimbley blew a puff of smoke in his face. Envy leaned against the brick wall, scuffing the debris on the floor with a shoe and feeling slightly left out. The bright white light that illuminated the side street blinked on and off periodically, alternately bathing them in bright white light and then leaving them in nearly complete darkness.

"Want one?" the junior asked suddenly, proffering a cigarette and his favorite red lighter.

Envy bit his lip, ten years of non-smoking propaganda warring with peer pressure and his own desire for oblivion. "Yeah." the teenager replied, holding out a hand. He lit it clumsily, nearly burning himself in the process, and took a deep drag.

The world seemed to dissolve into fragments of color as he choked, barely able to breathe. Eyes watering, he doubled over, hacking and coughing to rid his lungs of the foulness. In between his shuddering gasps, the cigarette fell to the ground, forgotten.

Kimbley thumped him on the back a couple of times, laughing. "Small breaths, Envy. Small breaths." When the teenager had finally regained control over his lungs, he straightened and wiped his eyes. Another cig was slapped into his hand.

It took him a while, and a couple more (though less serious) coughing fits before Envy mastered the art of smoking. To tell the truth, the nicotine didn't make him feel any better, but he imagined he looked pretty cool with a cigarette dangling from his lips and a stream of pale smoke spiraling up.

His companion, who had been watching him steadily, stuck his hands in his pockets and balanced the cigarette in his mouth alone. "Let's go to a club." he said abruptly.

"Hunh?" Envy asked, his voice slowed and thickened as he tried - unsuccessfully - to imitate Kimbley's feat. "But I'm only sixteen." He paused. "_You're_ only eighteen! The legal age is twenty-one!" There was no way they could get into some nightclub. But then again...

"...And has the _law_ ever stopped me before?" Kimbley asked derisively. He would have sounded like a teenage girl if he hadn't growled out the words. "There's a place where the bouncers owe me a favor. They'll let us both in." As he spoke, he walked toward Envy, until they were finally nose-to-nose. "You comin'?" he asked, breathing smoke in his companion's face.

Envy coughed surreptitiously, then met Kimbley's eyes boldly. "Fuck yeah." he replied brashly. It would be cool to go to a club, and it would be nice to party until he forgot everything. And - what could possibly go wrong?

Above them, the light flickered one more time and then went out.

_'Boulevard of Broken Dreams' - Greenday  
Reviews are appreciated, constructive criticism is adored._


	7. Chapter 7

_i am terribly sorry for the (long) delay in getting this chapter out. i lost my memory stick, flash drive, whatever, at school two weeks ago, and the only thing that wasn't backed up to my computer was this chapter, so i had to start it from scratch. do you know how hard that is? i kept putting it off, then i got distracted by school, with Academic Decathlon (don't ask), an addicting Sonic computer game, and an excellent biography of Oscar Wilde who is, by the way, one of my heroes. my sincerest apologies, and i hope this chapter surpasses your expectations. (i think it's gotten angstier the second time around... and longer!)_

**Chapter Seven  
**_when worlds collide_

Envy awoke with a sickening feeling of nausea. His stomach roiled and twisted as though there was a snake squirming in his intestines. For a few minutes, the urge to vomit was so strong that it blocked everything else, but, eventually, his senses returned.

The first thing he noticed was the smell. The room - and probably him, too - reeked of stale alcohol and tobacco. He wrinkled his nose, and rubbed his face against the pillow. How did his room get like that? Did he throw some kind of party? But then he realized that he wasn't sleeping in his own bed. The sheets were rougher, for one thing. And instead of his multiple comforters, there was a single threadbare blanket pulled over his shoulders. Ice cold panic seeped into Envy's gut, momentarily reducing the queasiness. If he wasn't in his own house, then where was he?

He tried to think back and recall the events that could have led to him lying in _someone else's _bed, feeling like he was going to die. It had started with his parents. They had... they had _what_? They had done something unforgivable, and Envy was never going back. Not even if they begged. Not even if they got down on their hands and knees and offered him anything he wanted, not that Dante would- The realization hit him like a ton of bricks. They had kicked him out! _Damn _them.

But that wasn't the real issue. Let's see... After he had been kicked out, he called Kimbley, who had picked him up. Then they drove... and Envy had smoked a cigarette... and there were lights and music and the bartender didn't ask for identification... His mind drew a disturbing blank. Shit. Double shit. Unexplained memory loss was never a good thing. Apprehensively, he opened his eyes.

The room was dimly lit, and at first Envy couldn't make out much. The blinds were open a tiny crack, and sunlight was doing its best to invade the darkness, therefore, he thought, it must be at least midmorning. The electric fan under the window was switched off, and the light glinted annoyingly on it, reflecting into his tired eyes. Grimacing, and feeling another prickle of panic in his gut - he didn't recognize this place at _all_ - he sat up.

Immediately, Envy realized that had been a bad idea. A stabbing pain shot through his head, making him wince, eyes watering. It reduced his vision to a myriad of colorful, swirling dots, and it took a while for his focus to return. Answering discomfort twinged in his lower back and shoulders. He was majorly fucked up.

"Oh, hey, you're awake." came a voice from his left. Turning his head - slowly, so as not to shatter the fragile china that used to be his skull - Envy looked around to see Kimbley, lounging comfortably in a swivel chair on the other side of the bed. He looked freshly showered, his ponytail making a damp spot on his black t-shirt and his yellow eyes gleaming. "Howzit?"

"K-Kimbley?" Envy croaked, his voice dry and raspy sounding. He coughed, and regretted it. Why was Kimbley here? Why was he in Kimbley's room? (This _was_ his room, right?) "What happened?"

The junior raised an eyebrow. "You don't remember?" He looked as though he was going to burst out laughing. "You're kidding, right? What, was that the first time you've been smashed?" Envy's silence said it all. "Woah, now I'm kinda feeling bad." His very Greed-like smile contradicted his words as he gave an 'I know something you don't know' look. "Let's just say," he began with a tone of amused superiority, "you get _very_ horny when you're drunk."

It took the teenager a moment to process that statement and its absolute wealth of information. So he _had _gotten drunk. That wasn't very surprising, given his massive hangover. And he had been horny, which meant... something to do with sex. Kimbley was referencing something sexual and Envy had no idea what it was. "What _happened_?" His voice was stronger now, as was his foreboding. Nothing good would come out of Kimbley's reply.

"Well - how should I put this..." He kicked his legs a bit and swiveled around in his chair. His grin grew wider and wider as Envy's befuddled scowl grew more and more pronounced. Suddenly, he looked up. "You made a great lay."

"_Excuse me_?" Envy asked, shocked. He stood up before he could think better of it, and winced as his back, legs, head, neck, and stomach protested - all at the same time. "I made a great _what_?" This was not good. There had to be some kind of explanation. Maybe Kimbley was joking! Yeah, that had to be it.

The junior smirked. "You heard me." he replied languidly, his eyes flickering up and down Envy's body. "And you might want to continue this discussion later, after you're dressed. I'm getting a bit... distracted." He licked his lips.

Envy looked down and realized he was completely naked. "Kimbley. _Where the fuck are my clothes_?"

Kimbley shrugged and gestured around the bedroom. "Your boxers are probably somewhere around here." he said magnanimously. "Why don't you check under the blankets?" He watched as Envy, too furious to be embarrassed, lifted up the spotty brown bedspread and shook it out. Eventually, he found his underwear and put it on.

"And I guess your shorts would be on the couch or something." He snickered. "That's where you managed to get mine off." This time, Envy's cheeks gained a flush of pink as he lurched towards the doorway. Kimbley followed him as he staggered into the hall and then the den. "Damn, you're really hungover. Need some aspirin or something? If you want, _I _can help you feel better." He laughed again.

The teenager did his level best to ignore his companions sexual comments. He was still uncomfortably ensconced in numb disbelief as he grabbed his shorts, which had been kicked behind the sofa, slipped on his purple tank top, and searched for his knapsack. There it was, by the door.

"You're not leaving yet, are you?" Kimbley asked, sounding disappointed. "I'm sure we can have a lot more _fun_ together." He left the dimly lit hallway, where he had been resting his back against the wall, and sauntered over to where Envy was wrestling groggily with the bolt. Cornering him between the door and an outstretched arm, he leaned forward over the teenager's shoulder to whisper in his ear. "I know you want to."

Startled, Envy jumped and jerked away from Kimbley's caressing breath. "Will you just _leave me alone_?" he shouted, losing his balance and stumbling against the door. He tried to work the lock open without turning his back on his assailant, scrabbling desperately against the door. He was afraid. He was honest to God _terrified _of what Kimbley might do to him if he put his mind to it.

The junior slowly ran slender fingers down his chest, growing ever nearer to the waistband of his shorts. He leaned even closer and brushed cool lips over Envy's cheek. "I was surprised - last night you liked it so much. To tell you the truth," he murmured, "I wasn't even planning on doing you. _Yet_."

Although he was still slightly woozy and distracted by his escape attempt, Envy couldn't help but notice the sickening promise that those words had held. So, he wasn't planning on raping him so soon, but it definitely would have happened. "You know," he said weakly as he finally managed to spring the lock and as Kimbley's fingers slid ever downwards, "friends don't do stuff like that."

He stumbled out of the door in time to hear Kimbley's coldly amused response. "_I know_."

The sunlight blinded Envy as he blundered down the stairs, somehow managing to pull the door closed behind him. The dazzling brilliance of the sidewalk and the bright reflections off the nearby houses caused his vision to swim. Squinting, with his head aching worse than before, he fell sprawling on his knees.

Life wasn't fair. Life wasn't fair. Repeating the statement as a mantra in his head, Envy slowly got back to his feet. Used to the darkness of Kimbley's house, he could barely see. His stomach lurched and he was barely able to stagger to the bushes before vomiting violently.

Retching, the teenager rubbed a weary hand over his eyes, then touched the credit card - still miraculously in his pocket - like a good luck charm. He needed to find someone... something. He needed to get out of here. Maybe he could go back to his parents' house eventually, but he had no idea where it was and he was nearly dead on his feet. He needed - he hated himself for saying this, but it was true. He needed a friend.

As Envy walked down the street, and walked out of Kimbley's life _for good_, he tried to convince himself that his tears were simply from the brightness. Why _else_ would he be crying?

---

Unlike the bustling halls of Central Hospital proper, the M. Kovarik ward was eerily quiet. Occasionally, a blue-coated nurse would bustle past, laden with clipboards and extra supplies, but otherwise the sterile white passageway was empty.

Edward shuffled down the hall, his hands in his pockets. He hated hospitals on principle - mostly because of the smell - but he absolutely _loathed _this part of the corridor. The echoing silence magnified his footsteps until it seemed like a thousand Eds were marching down the tiled floor, and every cough or rustle of his clothing was similarly augmented. Some days, he would get so freaked out that he ended up looking over his shoulder every other step, expecting a silent follower.

The M. Kovarik ward was for vegetables. Or, to say it in a more politically correct way, patients in a _semi-permanent vegetative state_ - a coma. This was the dumping ground for Central's zombies - almost dead but not close enough to give up on. Most of the people in this wing had been unresponsive for months. The longest resident, Edward recalled, was an elderly woman simply known as J.P., who had made this place her home for over three years.

Ed's specific destination was Suite 430B, a room that conveyed an overly cheerful effect with its flowered yellow curtains and canary-colored walls. It contained three separate beds - two out in the open and one given the semblance of privacy by translucent white curtains. As usual, Ed stopped at the first two cots before moving onto the third.

Patient 430B1 was an eighty-year-old retiree, who had undergone complications during radiation treatment and chemotherapy for Hodgkin's Lymphoma. As far as he knew, Ed was the only one who came to visit him at all - the rest of his relatives were simply waiting for nature to take its course so they would be able to gain the man's inheritance. His name, if Edward remembered it correctly, was Jim.

"How're you doing?" he asked cheerfully, stopping by his bedside and trying not to look at the old man's emaciated, ashy countenance. "It's really beautiful outside today. There's barely a cloud in the sky - really good weather for May, huh? It's almost summertime. I see Nurse Clara brought you a new batch of flowers. Aren't they nice looking? I've always loved sunflowers. They're so bright.

The next bed contained Patient 430B2. She was a twenty-one year old girl - barely older than Ed himself - who had been involved in a drunk-driving crash. Her name had been all over the papers a six months or so ago. Apparently she had gone to a frat party, became drunk, and failed to get a designated driver. The rest was history. She had missed a four-way stop sign and slammed into another driver, mildly injuring him but putting herself into a persistent state of unconsciousness.

"Hi, Karen. Clara got you new flowers too, didn't she? The roses are very pretty - almost blue. Oh! I nearly forgot. Your name was in the paper today, but this time it was something good." He bit his lip and smiled again. "They took your case to the Metropolitan Court, but the guy you hit refused to press charges. The judge said that if-_when_ you wake up, you're going to be on probation for three years, with seven hundred hours of community service. That's a lot better than jail, isn't it?"

He had always felt like a bit of an idiot, talking out loud like this, but it was a proven fact that some people were able to hear even in comas - they simply weren't able to respond. And Ed felt bad, seeing them lonely like this.

Sighing, he straightened up and proceeded to the curtained-off bed. Trisha Elric was lying there peacefully, her laughing grey eyes closed and her once-silky brown hair tangled and spread on her pillow. She had gotten thinner in the past year, Ed noticed. A simple IV wasn't enough to keep her healthy.

Tearing his eyes from the needle inserted in her upturned wrist, Edward took a seat in the battered folding chair at her bedside. He gulped and began to talk. "Hey, mom." he said, trying to inject false cheerfulness into his tone. "How's it going? Sorry it's just me here today. Al had to study for his math final today. I know you've probably been told this already, but he's in _honors_." Ed laughed half-heartedly. "And I've heard that the honors program at St. Charles is one of the hardest in the state! It makes me kinda glad that I didn't end up going there..."

His words petered out and he debated whether or not to take his mother's hand. Eventually he decided against it - he didn't want to feel the cold and clammy porcelain again. "Um..." He cast about for suitable topics for one-sided conversation. "We're actually not having finals this year." he continued. "The letter came yesterday. Some idiots decided it would be fun to set up cherry bombs in the administrative office, and so the principal got freaked out and decided to shut down the school for the rest of term. It's totally against the public school's policy, but hey, it's _Central_, so nobody really cares."

He imagined Trisha's reply and hastily amended his report. "And of course no one was hurt! Just a few bruises and stuff. I'm fine."

Absentmindedly, he reached to the foot of her bed and grabbed the clipboard where doctors noted their day-to-day treatments. He flipped backwards through it, occasionally picking out and reading interesting notes.

_04/30/07: Administered flu vaccination._

_02/29/07: Spike in brain activity - a dream?_

_12/10/06: Gave physical. Patient's reflexes normal._

_08/01/06: Patient appears comatose. Administered intravenous fluid mixture for hydration - Lactated Ringers and five-percent Dextrose._

_07/31/06: Patient unresponsive. MRI scan, CAT scan. Diagnosis: __brain hemorrhage_

Edward slumped in the chair, and realized he had stopped talking to his mother. "Oh, sorry, mom." he said, smiling uneasily. "I... kinda got distracted." He shook his head. "I dunno. I'm sorry." He replaced the progress notes. "I'm... I'm really sorry, Mom. I've been getting distracted like that a lot, lately. It's just... hard to concentrate sometimes. I know I'm not supposed to complain about it, and I know _you_ never complained about it, but it's really hard trying to run the family right and take care of Al. I mean, the Rockbell's are a big help with the bills and the legal papers and all that, and the Hughes family invites us over to dinner once and a while, but I still have to run our house mostly by myself. And I have to keep up with schoolwork and still find some time to chill, and hang out with my friends. I just can't balance all of it!"

He took a deep, shuddering breath, and slumped forward, resting his elbows on his mother's pale blue blanket. "God. I didn't mean to go all spazzy like this. I was going to try to keep it together. I always keep it together! Al has no idea I feel like this... I think. He knows it's hard, and he knows we're going to have to do without sometimes to make ends meet, but he doesn't _know_ - you know?" He laughed dryly. "Am I even making sense? I'm confessing stuff that I hardly ever think about! It's usually never a big deal, but now... I guess you'd understand, though. I can't believe you were able to get everything done, especially after he... he..."

Ed couldn't go on. His father had left Trisha three years ago, and had only contacted her once - with a form she needed to sign for a marriage annulment, a vaguely friendly postcard, and a picture of the new woman he was starting his life with. Things had started going downhill long before that, but the letter was what really made them fall apart.

It was best not to think about that. Ed inhaled slowly, then exhaled, closing his eyes. He couldn't break down now. He pulled himself together. "Anyway, Mom, thanks for listening to me like that." He looked at her closed eyes and immovable face again, and grinned unsteadily. "Not that you had a choice, huh? I'll be back next week, and Al tells me that he promises to come too. See you!"

He stood up and closed the curtains, then walked to the door. "Bye, Jim. Bye, Karen." He cast one last look at the old man's wizened face and the girl's tranquil expression, then left the room.

---

Envy shuffled down the sidewalk, exhausted. As much to distract himself as anything, he began counting the cracks in the pavement as he passed. One... Two... It seemed like he had been walking for _hours_. He was absolutely exhausted, and every step grew more and more painful. His legs were sore, as well as his back and neck. And he was almost positive that he had bruises in _very_ suspicious places, thanks to Kimbley.

He wondered where his house was. On a hilly street, at the top of the town? The tip of the town? The top of the tip of the toast of the town? His worn out mind ran in circles. Maybe he was there already. Maybe his feet had magically transported him back to his home!

The teenager glanced up hopefully, to see that he was on a shabby sidewalk next to an even shabbier street, with no mansions in sight. He grimaced, and looked around. To his left was a small, ghetto-esque residential area. To his right was a building that looked like some crazy architect had stacked a bunch of small houses together. An apartment building? Envy frowned. Didn't those things only exist in movies? He thought they had gone extinct in, like, the eighties.

Then again, the world was rapidly proving that what he _thought_ wasn't necessarily true. Besides, when did he ever think? And, without thinking, Envy turned, dragged himself toward the nearest flat, and rang the doorbell.

A middle aged woman, complete with permed and frazzled blonde hair and wildly contrasting lipstick, wrenched open the door. "How can I help you?" she asked tersely. /Divorced,/ Envy thought, eyeing her white terrycloth bathrobe. /Some kind of writer. Smokes. No kids./

He smiled politely and said the first thing that came to mind. "Hi, I'm _Tanya_, from Date Rapes Anonymous. We're currently collecting donations for the 2007 to 2008 fiscal year. Would you care to contribute to this worthy cause?"

The woman's expression was strange - a combination of the 'Is it a boy or a girl?' and the 'Is he/she/it telling the truth?' looks. After a few seconds of awkward silence, she contorted her features into a smile-like grimace. /_Definitely_ no kids,/ Envy thought as she replied, "Sorry, I'm not interested," and hastily slammed the door.

Ugh. That wasn't very nice of her, the jerk. And he had even made an effort to be ironic! No one appreciated him.

But the apartment complex-thingy was pretty cool, he had to admit. There was an outside set of stairs that led up to the second floor, and Envy climbed them, a bit wary of their instability. The second floor of the building was nearly the same as the first - rows of doors, some windows, and occasional flowerpots, spruced up with plastic geraniums. The doorsteps looked very inviting...

And, without giving himself time to consider the consequences, he flopped down onto the nearest cement step, thunking his head against the door in the process. "Life's not fair..." he moaned, sighing loudly. Then Envy laughed. No, life wasn't fair. It was _hilarious_.

He felt absolutely disgusting. He probably looked absolutely disgusting too - going twenty-four hours with no a shower will do that to one's hair. And he had been _raped_.

Well, not raped, _per se_. Kimbley made it very clear that Envy was the one who had wanted it in the first place. But still, that was no excuse. The teenager imagined Kimbley running his hands all over his body, and giggled. It's not rape if you're willing!

Envy slid down so that he was practically laying down on the welcome mat, and continued his reflections. He had been so naive. So very, very, painfully naive. And he had been kicked out of his house! His parents had left him to live like an orphan, to die in the street, to get raped and murdered and-

He laughed again. Maybe he could just fall asleep here (it was so comfortable) and then, when the owner of the house got back, he would be kicked out and he would sleep under a bridge and get picked up by a pimp because the guy would think he was a girl and then end up working for the Mafia. But then he would betray them to a grand jury and the police and the FBI, too, wouldn't be able to protect him from the might of Don... Don... Rafael Caravaggio! and so he would be caught by hired hitmen and tortured and, when he refused to give up secrets of the government, forced to take a long walk off a short pier with cinder blocks chained to his ankles.

Who knew? It could happen... maybe. Was there a Mafia in Central?

...Oh, definitely. Kimbley was part of it.

Haha. Very funny.

"I'm getting hysterical." he observed, and reluctantly sat up again. He banged his head against the door once more, this time purposefully, to try to wake up. "What am I doing with my life?" he moaned. "Why am I even here?"

His questioning was interrupted by the door, which opened. Surprised, and unable to stop himself, Envy fell backwards across the threshold. He looked up into a pair of surprised hazel eyes and mentally shrugged. What the heck.

"Um. Can I borrow your shower?"

---

_Dear Diary,_ Al wrote, tapping the pen to his lips as he thought. _I know I'm supposed to be studying for finals right now, but something really strange just happened. I heard someone knocking on the door, and so I opened it. At first I didn't see anyone, but then all of a sudden this teenager (I think he's only a year or so older than me) fell at my feet. I guess he was sitting on our doorstep for some reason or another. He asked if he could borrow our shower._

The boy frowned. Why had the person been there in the first place? _He looked tired and he really needed help, so I told him it was okay. After he got out he had new clothes on - I guess he had them in his backpack - and I told him I would wash his old ones. They smelled kinda like cigarette smoke. He told me his name was Envy, and that he had nowhere to go. So I said that he could stay here for a while, if my brother lets him. Right now he's crashed on the couch, and I think I'll make him some lunch for when he wakes up._

_I hope big bro doesn't mind. He's okay with letting me keep stray cats for a few days, so I hope he'll be fine with Envy staying for a little while. I mean, it's not like Ed-_

Al heard the door unlock and open. "I'm home!" called his brother, clomping into the hall. With a startled squeak, he shut the diary and buried it under a pile of papers. He hurried out of the kitchen, sliding to block the way before Edward walked into the living room.

"Hey, Ed." he said nervously, biting his lip. "Uh... How's mom doing?"

Edward shrugged and tried to walk forward, only to be blocked by his little brother. "She's the same as always, I guess. Can I get past you?"

"Yeah, sure..." Alphonse replied, making no move to step to the side. "Listen, brother, would you mind being a little quieter? He just fell asleep, and I think you're going to wake him up."

With uncanny speed, Ed demonstrated his ability to come to conclusions with no reasonable evidence. "He's asleep? What? Who? Al, _what did you do while I was gone_?" If it hadn't been directed at him, Al would have found his brother's confused look of horror absolutely hilarious. As it was, he had to consciously refrain from rolling his eyes.

"It's not what you think, bro." he replied wearily, stepping aside and letting Edward stride into the den. Might as well let the teenager see for himself. Al waited until Ed had gone, and took a deep breath. Judging from his initial reaction, this would take a lot of convincing. He calmed himself and prepared for an argument before he followd his brother.

"What the _fuck_ is he doing here?" Ed asked, eying Envy's sleeping form with unwarranted disgust.

Alphonse was a bit nonplussed. "Oh." he said meekly. "So you know him?"

Edward turned toward him furiously, actually glaring _at_ Al for the first time in nearly a year. "Of course I know him! He goes to my freaking _school_! And he is the most spoiled, pompous, idiotic, ignorant, arrogant, stupid, conceited, rich _bastard _I have ever met!"

With every word, Al's eyes grew wider. He hated cussing, and when Ed got as angry as this, it scared him. But even so, he knew it was his obligation to help Envy, regardless of what his brother thought. "Why don't we discuss this in the kitchen, big brother? He's asleep."

Grudgingly, Edward followed him to the table. "Al, he needs to leave _now_. I know he probably told you some bullshit story about how he's oh-so-lonely and how he needs help, but think. He's the child of Dante - yeah, _the_ Dante, the actress - and some hotshot CEO. With those kinds of parents, and that kind of money, do you _honestly think_ that he really needs to be sleeping on _our_ couch?"

Al was, momentarily, shocked. He had no idea that he had invited in someone that... that... famous. Envy certainly hadn't said anything about his parentage, and he hadn't given a reason for his mysterious appearance on their doorstep. Still... "Ed, if his parents were that rich, why would he need to be sleeping on '_our_ couch' in the first place? I think something happened." He crossed his arms defiantly.

"Oh, yeah, _something_ definitely happened." Edward snapped. "He probably had an argument with his parents and he's too proud to go back. Betcha he thought running away would be _fun_. He probably figured people would be _begging_ for him to stay with them. And look, Al! _You _just proved him right. Now he's going to stay here for _God _knows how long, eating _our _food, using _our_ house, and never giving a damn about how hard it is for us to actually _afford_-"

"Will you _shut up_?" Al cried, close to tears. He had never seen Ed this judgmental, and, frankly, it scared him. "He's in _trouble_, Ed. Don't you see those bruises?" He gestured angrily to the darker shadows along Envy's collarbone, exposed by the blanket that had been simply flung over his legs and lower torso. "Do _those_ look accidental to you?"

Edward, who had been shocked into quiet by Al's outburst, snorted. "Those? They're probably from some crazy sexual escapade with one of his fifty _thousand_ girlfriends. Am I _supposed_ to care about what he does with them in his spare time?" He laughed, then returned to condescending solemnity. "You have to understand that this isn't just another stray cat. It's a _person_."

"Exactly! Exactly, Ed! Envy is a _person_, and this _person_ needs help! This is ten times more important than some lost kitten!" Desperately, he cast about for some final argument that would make his brother understand. "What would _Mom_ do?"

Instead of making Edward see the light, as he had hoped, the teenager grew even more furious. "I'm not Mom, Al, and you _need_ to understand that." he growled, stamping his foot. "I'm not Mom, and I never will be! I'm just your big brother, but right now I'm trying to do what's _best _for this family."

Maybe Ed was telling the truth. Maybe he really did think his judgemental attitude would help. But regardless of what he _thought_, Al _knew _that kicking Envy out would be criminal. "Okay, so you're not Mom." he replied, finally feeling like he had the upper hand. "I can accept that. But the least you could do is honor her memory-"

"You make it sound like she's dead!" Edward interjected, clenching his fists. "She's alive, and she _will_ wake up!"

Alphonse took a deep breath. That probably wasn't the best path to take. "Right. She's not dead. And when she wakes up, how will she feel if you tell her you turned away a helpless-"

"He's not _helpless_, dammit! He probably has _tons_ of people he can go to! He doesn't need to be mooching off _us_!"

"_He has nowhere to go_." Al hissed. It was his turn to glare. "Have you not been listening to me? He told me that he didn't have anyone to stay with and-" Instead of letting Ed cut him off this time, he held up a forceful hand. "You're being just like _Dad_!" he shouted.

Al took advantage of Edward's stunned silence to continue in a more reasonable tone. "Just because he's rich, and just because he might not be the _nicest_ person, doesn't mean that he's just like Dad." the boy said, feeling that he had finally gotten to the roots of Ed's antipathy for the teenager. "You barely know him, yet you've already written him off as some kind of colossal b-bastard who doesn't care about anyone! Give him a chance, Ed. He might prove you wrong."

Sighing, Edward slumped into a chair. "Fine, Al." he said wearily. "You win. He can stay. Happy now?"

Al tried to feel triumphant at his victory. But as he watched Ed, with his face buried in his hands, and Envy, in a troubled slumber on the sofa, he could only feel a growing sense of sadness. What had he sacrificed, he wondered, to keep himself happy? What had he started?

_'When Worlds Collide'_ - _Powerman 5000_  
_Reviews are appreciated; constructive criticism is adored. Suggestions for what to write next chapter are worshipped!_


	8. Chapter 8

_have you ever noticed how much 'anarchist' sounds like 'Antichrist'? sorry; just had to shove that out there. (read __Good Omens__ by Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett!) anyway, i once again apologize for the late update. i've been doing my best but, you know, finals, life, relatives, Christmas... the usual excuses. sorry. i hope this chapter is up to your expectations._

**Chapter Eight**  
_one step closer_

Winry stepped out onto the porch and took a deep breath of the fresh air. She smiled widely as the clean coolness filled her lungs, driving out any traces of whatever self-doubt or anger her dreams had left her with. She always loved mornings.

Snapping her fingers to summon her black and white dog, Den, the blonde set off running down the street. Her hair bounced in its ponytail and her bangs alternately swished behind her ears or into her eyes - she really needed a haircut, and soon. Long hair was so annoying. Sometimes she wondered why she even bothered.

Her footsteps and the jingling of the dog's collar were the only sound on the deserted street. Even though it was nearly six-thirty in the morning on a Thursday, Central was still mostly silent. Winry smiled again. She liked it this way. There were no cars out, no neighbors to stare and wonder what the hell she was doing, none of her peers to be embarrassed about. There was just her, the legs carrying her, and Den.

As her feet pounded the ground, Winry let her mind drift into contemplation. Her daily jogging sessions were among her favorite times of the day, mostly because the repetitive exercise gave her a time for meditation, where she could dwell on events that had happened over the course of the day and work on solutions to whatever problems she had been having. And today, she had a lot to think about.

Firstly: The sudden cancellation of the rest of the school term due to the mysterious events surrounding the 'bombing' of the administration office. Winry had heard it from Clause, who had heard it from Jake, who was told by Brian, that the school's two anarchists, Envy and Zolf Kimbley, were responsible. She wasn't really surprised. From what she knew of Kimbley, he was an obsessive pyromaniac. And Envy... Envy just liked causing trouble. It was, she mused, almost a good thing that they had chosen their 'attack' for the Tuesday of the last week of school. At least she wouldn't have to have her geometry final, or her chemistry final.

But, all the same, there was no reason to do something as stupid as putting cherry bombs under the faculty desks. What if someone had been hurt? Winry hoped that, if Kimbley and Envy were the perpetrators, they had gotten duly punished.

Secondly: Her break-up with Ed. Due to the hectic nature of the past week, she hadn't had time to really consider everything that a break-up entailed. Well, it obviously meant being single again. She was free to pursue her own love interests, to some extent. But she wouldn't have a boyfriend to hide behind every time a guy tried to hit on her. She would be an eligible candidate for the usual round of high school crushes and drama and stupid things like that.

Winry had forgotten how much she _hated_, absolutely _hated_ gossip - not necessarily the 'who did who in the bathroom' part (that was simply information), but the biting, snippy, and largely untrue comments passed on between both girls and boys in the hall. She had also forgotten how fast the rumors always spread. That was what scared her.

Luckily (she silently and selfishly thanked Kimbley and Envy, or whoever), there were two and a half months - two and a half _long_, _summer_ months - where she could forget about what other people thought and work on being herself. That was a good thing, right?

She winced and threw a hand up to shade her eyes as the sun nearly blinded her. It had risen past the mountain peaks and was busy lighting up the streets. The sudden brightness brought Winry out of her speculations to look around. She had already reached Pepino Street, which meant she was close to the main street and the busier part of town. Sighing slightly, and realizing that her run was half over, she took a left down Sandia Avenue and headed back, Den still keeping pace at her side.

The last issue: Rose. Rose was always an issue, wasn't she? Winry thought bitterly, pushing herself to run faster. Rose was a liability. Rose was a burden. Rose was a nuisance. Or at least, her feelings for Rose were. She knew she was going to end up making a fool out of herself for this one stupid crush. Wasn't that what happened to everyone else? Yet, she couldn't help the way she felt. It was, she supposed, just fate.

Her deliberations were once again broken off, this time because of the slamming of a car door a few streets over. "I don't care!" a voice shouted. It sounded male. "I'm not going to deal with it! Stop coming to whine to _me_ about your problems!"

Curiously, Winry wrapped her fingers around Den's collar and slowly led him through a convenient alleyway, one of the many side streets that connected the main suburban thoroughfares. She wasn't keen to get herself involved in some kind of domestic dispute, but the least she could do was see if anyone needed help (and, also, satiate her nosiness). The fingers of her other hand curled around the cell phone tucked into the pocket of her shorts.

"Get out of the fucking car, bitch. I don't care what you think - you're _not_ my girlfriend anymore!" There was the sound of a woman sobbing. Winry bit her lip angrily and hurried forward, stopping at the edge of the sidewalk and making sure she was still hidden in the shadows. What she saw made her eyes widen with horror.

Rose - _her_ Rose, the object of her affection, her unrequited love - was sprawled out on the street, as though she had just been pushed out of the beat up blue Mercedes. Her boyfriend (ex-boyfriend now, apparently) was standing over her threateningly, his hand raised as though to strike. The brunette was cringing, weeping.

Clenching her fists, Winry growled. As she made to step forward, Kain (_that _was his name) let his arm drop back to his side, walked around the front of the car, got in, slammed the door, and sped away. He nearly ran over Rose in the process.

"Shit." Winry muttered, watching the girl sob her heart out on the unforgiving pavement. "_Shit_." Should she go out and attempt to comfort her? Should she stay and watch and make sure she got home safely? Should she leave now and spare herself the inevitable embarrassment? In the end, the strict moral code that had been practically beaten into her by Pinako surfaced, and she made her decision.

"Rose?" she called hesitantly. "Hey, are you okay?" She couldn't recall ever having spoken to the olive-skinned girl before, and she knew she had no reason to know her name. But whatever she could do helped, right?

The brunette looked up, her grey-green eyes filled with tears. "H-he dumped me!" she sobbed as Winry knelt next to her. "H-he was my b-boyfriend and I l-loved him, b-b-but now..." She collapsed into tears, and the blonde rubbed her shoulders awkwardly.

"Shh..." she said, trying to stop the desperate crying. She traced soothing circles on Rose's back and hated herself for the blush that came uninvited to her cheeks. Why couldn't she just forget about the stupid crush, for one minute? Rose needed _comfort_, not unwanted affection.

The girl hugged herself, running cold hands up and down her arms. Her weeping only increased as Winry tried to soothe her, finally giving up on simply patting and wrapping an arm around her shoulders. "H-he... I-I-I..." She was reduced to incoherent words and wailing.

Eventually, her sobbing slowed. Rose gasped for breath, hiccupping slightly, and rubbed her eyes. Winry leaned forward, still slightly pink, and smoothed pink bangs back from her Mediterranean face. "Shh... Just breathe..." she whispered, using a corner of the loose t-shirt to wipe the girl's face. A question had nagged at the blonde throughout her ministrations, and now she felt that Rose had calmed down enough to be asked without bursting into tears all over again. "But..." she began hesitantly. "Um... _Why_ did he dump you?"

Rose took a deep, shuddering breath, then let it out slowly, obviously trying to keep from tears once more. She wiped her face, then shook her head, looking into Winry's blue eyes helplessly. "Because," she croaked, her voice hoarse from sobbing. "I'm pregnant."

---

Loud music filled the air, startling Ed out of his peaceful slumber. Groaning and pulling the covers up higher, he stuck one arm out of his impromptu cocoon and quested around his night table. He managed to nearly knock down the light and sweep off his car keys before finding the source of the tuneless rock and roll - his cell phone.

"What?" he asked irritably, putting the phone to his ear and staring up tiredly at the bottom of Al's empty bunk bed. "I was sleeping." His voice was hoarse as accentuated his words with a yawn.

"_Shit, Ed, help me!_" came a frantic female call.

Frowning, Ed removed the phone from his ear and checked the number: 247-8924. Winry?! He had never heard the aspiring mechanic sound so desperate. "What's the matter?" he asked concernedly, envisioning all kinds of awful situations - had she been injured? Was she in the hospital? Had she been _raped_?

"_It's... It's... Rose._" the girl replied, her voice growing quieter with every syllable. Encouraged by Edward's silence, she continued. "_She's in my house, she's fucking pregnant, and I have no idea what to do!_"

Well. That was a nice thing to wake up to in the morning. In Ed's mind, there was only one reply to that kind of statement. "Can you call back in, like, an hour? I'm going back to bed." Yawning again, he began to put down the cell phone and snuggle into his pillow.

"_ED YOU MORON!_" Winry screeched, and he started. "_DON'T YOU UNDERSTAND WHAT I JUST TOLD YOU? WHAT THE HELL AM I SUPPOSED TO DO?!_" Ed held the phone at arm's length until her raging subsided, then sighed and consigned himself to an hour of consolation and, the horror, 'girl talk'.

"Okay, first thing you can do is stop freaking out and killing my eardrums." he replied, exasperated. "Why are you even yelling at me, anyway? Rose is at your house, right? Can't she hear you?"

Winry paused. "_She's in the kitchen right now, and Granny Pinako is taking care of her_."

"And where are you?"

"_...Locked in the bathroom._"

Edward groaned and smacked his forehead, then rolled over so he was once again staring at the bed above him. It was too bad that Al still had school - he had always been better at given love advice and connecting with females than Ed ever had. "You're acting like a junior high idiot, you know." Quickly, although he knew Winry was unable to see him, he held up one hand in a calming gesture. "Just because you have a crush on her doesn't mean you can't act _normal_ around her. Being on your toes around her all the time is probably just gonna freak her out. Be yourself. She won't bite."

"_That's not what I'm afraid of_," the trainee mechanic replied, and Ed wasn't sure whether or not to consider it innuendo. He decided to ignore the possible double meanings of that statement. "_I'm just afraid it's too obvious that I like her. And I've been kinda 'watching her from afar' so long, you know, that I don't even know how to talk to her._"

"Staaalker..." Ed replied in a singsong voice, grinning. "But seriously. You need to calm down. Pretend she's... pretend she's me, or something, only brunette, female, and pretty - as opposed to handsome, of course."

"_Shut up, Ed_." Even though her tone was dismissive, Winry definitely sounded better. Good. Edward knew he was horrible at advising people - that was more Rayes's job, or Al's. He was just glad she hadn't started screaming again. "_I guess I'll try my best_." Through the phone, her gusty sigh was a rush of static.

He rolled his eyes. "Stop acting like a lovesick puppy," he told her. Ed had really never understood how some people could spend so much time mooning over a simple crush. Just get over it or do something about it - that was his motto. "Anyway, you'll never guess what happened yesterday."

"_What, Ed_?" Winry asked. It was her turn to be exasperated with her best friend's lack of sympathy.

"Okay. Like, I went to visit Mom like usual, but when I came home that bastard Envy was sleeping on the couch!" he said, growing angry even as he remembered. "I was totally going to kick him out - he has a fucking _mansion_; why should he have to sleep in _our_ dinky little apartment? - but somehow he convinced Al that he was in big trouble. And dear little brother, being the wonderfully kind soul he is, decided to take mercy and be a complete and total sucker."

"_So?_"

"So I'm fucking _stuck_ with that jackass! And I don't even know how long he's staying! If he behaves _normally_, he should be bumming around and eating _our_ food and using _our_ stuff for the rest of the fucking summer!" He pounded his mattress with one fist to add emphasis to every single point. "What the fuck is up with that?!"

"_Well_," Winry replied, her voice carefully neutral, "_maybe he really _was_ in big trouble. You can't just say that everything he tells you is a lie, you know. That's being really judgmental, and-_"

Edward cut her off with a growl. "I'm not being judgmental when I'm _right_!" he nearly shouted. He probably wasn't making much sense, but that didn't matter! Winry was being just like Al! Of course she would - neither of them knew Envy at _all_. They didn't know what he was capable of.

"_Uh-huh_." she replied, sounding doubtful. Ed glared at the mattress above him. "_I would tell you that sometimes you _can_ be wrong, but I'm sure you would just ignore me. Anyway, I'm sure you'll find out for yourself._"

"What's that supposed to mean?!" Edward demanded, but he was cut off.

"_I'll see you around - maybe I'll drop by tomorrow or something. Thanks for your advice on Rose, and good luck with Envy. Don't be to hard on him, okay? I'm sure if you just give him a chance..._" Her words trailed off as she hung up with a decisive click.

Slowly, Ed shut his phone with a snap and placed it back on the nightstand. Why didn't anyone else see that Envy was just a manipulative jerk - just like every other rich bastard? Why was he the only one that could see through the teenager's stupid facade?

He sighed forcefully, then swung his legs out of bed and stood. Apparently his unwanted houseguest hadn't woken up yet, so he would hopefully be able to sneak across the living room into the bathroom before the asshole noticed. Grabbing his towel, he padded barefoot through the hall and across the living room, casting a sidelong glance at the sleeping form on the couch.

Whatever happened in the future, this was already shaping up to be the worst summer in Edward Elric's life.

---

Envy blinked once, then sat bolt upright, clutching the sheets to his chest. Once again, he was in an unfamiliar bed (_couch_, actually) in an unfamiliar room. He looked around nervously, then slumped back down. He wasn't naked and Kimbley wasn't staring at him, so this place was good. He supposed.

The whole 'waking up disoriented in a stranger room' routine was getting rather old, he reflected. Was there someone up in Heaven with a grudge against him? What had he _done_ to deserve this treatment? He had been kicked out of his own house by his own parents. He had been raped and then humiliated by the guy he called his best friend. His only choice had been to take refuge in a stranger's house.

And it was all for a little joke. A prank. _Three_ cherry bombs, that didn't even hurt anyone.

Silently, he gritted his teeth and smacked himself in the forehead. /What is wrong with this whole damn world?/

So. Whose house was he in, anyway? The only thing he remembered from the day before (since the sun was shining it was probably already the next morning; he had missed nearly a complete day) was a younger boy letting him in and helping him to the shower, and then there was warm water and it had felt really good, and then the couch was just there and the boy put out some blankets and it was so soft and warm. He shook his head and laughed. _That_ helped a lot.

There was a window behind the couch and a coffee table in front of it. A small television set (small compared to his fifty inch plasma screen high-definition TV), along with a VCR and DVD player, was set up at the other end of the room. The clock on the video player - Envy had to squint to read the small, green glowing numbers - read 8:30. Good. It was still early, and he hadn't slept _that_ much.

Yawning, he raised his arms above his head in a stretch and winced slightly, still feeling a bit sore. He did his best to smooth down his greenish hair - it tended to get frizzy and unruly in the mornings, fixed his rumpled black shirt, and stood, the muscles in his back and thighs protesting. If he was awake, he might as well meet the kind soul that took him in, and see whether they would let him bum around for, say, the rest of the summer.

Two exits led out of the living room-ish place, and Envy arbitrarily chose the left one. Cautiously (because he wasn't sure who he was dealing with) he peered into a compact hallway with two more doorways. One was open, revealing a smallish room with bunk beds - the bottom was messy and the sheets were unmade, while the top was so neat he wasn't sure whether anyone slept in it or not.

Apparently, that side of the apartment was for bedrooms. He didn't feel the need to look behind the closed door... yet, anyway; he needed to get the measure of these people before going around and snooping in their belongings.

And that left only the right hand door for exploration. He shuffled back across the den, wincing at the feel of the cheap, bristly carpet against his bare feet, and found himself in a kitchen. At least, that was what it seemed like. He had always assumed that the kitchen would be one of the biggest rooms in the house - after all, it was used for preparing food and it needed a ton of timesaving devices, like coffee makers and blenders and espresso machines and probably ovens and fridges and dishwashers too. But this kitchen was small and cramped, with cluttered counters and _tiny_ appliances. There was also a table set apart a bit from the mess, that only sat four. Was that where they ate dinner every day? Didn't the people at least have a dining room? Why were these apartments so _small_?

Puzzled and shaking his head at the stupidity of the general population (Didn't they know that it was classier and cleaner to eat in a room other than the kitchen?) he pulled out a rickety chair and gingerly sat down. There was a yellow gingham cushion gracing the seat and it felt lumpy and uncomfortable.

He slumped a bit, and stared out the window that was conveniently placed at the other end of the table. It faced the second storey walkway that he had dragged himself up to only twenty four hours earlier. The fake geraniums were still drooping on the railing and, below, there was still the attractive view of a dirty street and miniscule, ramshackle houses. Sighing, Envy propped his chin up with his hand.

He wondered how Kimbley was doing. The record of their misdeeds had been remarkably erased from the public consciousness - at least, from what he could see of the scattered paper, they hadn't made front page news - most likely thanks to Dante and Greed, and their myriad connections. With the police off his case, Envy's former best friend was hopefully off joining some death worshipping cult or fighting in a mysterious gang war all the way over in Xenotime. Good riddance.

At least the asshole was expelled, so when school started in August Envy wouldn't have to see him every day. If everything went his way, he would never see Kimbley again. To be completely honest, he didn't think he would be able to undergo that kind of humiliation. How could he have been so _trusting_? He _knew_ Kimbley was the biggest sleaze in the whole world, and yet Envy had believed that they were best friends - for life. Buddies. Anarchy Man and the Envy, his kickass sidekick.

Ha ha. Good one.

"Oh, so you're awake." said a flat voice behind him. Envy, startled, whirled around and nearly knocked down his chair. When he saw a shorter, wet-haired teenager eyeing him coolly, he slowly returned to his seat, grinning uneasily. Apparently one of the residents, it looked like he had just emerged from the shower in the bathroom behind him.

"Heheh... You scared me." he replied, offering a hand. Law Number One of survival was to always be nice to the person who had you at their mercy. In this case, it was this angry looking guy who seemed strangely familiar.

His proffered hand was ignored, and instead he found himself caught in an icy golden glare. "Al is too nice." the teenager said. "He insisted on letting you stay here. You're lucky I listen to my little brother, _Envy_."

Envy frowned and cocked his head to the side. The not-so-nice person knew his name, which meant they were either acquaintances or the 'Al' kid had told him. But given his dislike, they must have met sometime, right? (Not that he automatically gave people a reason to frown on him - in Envy's mind, it was take it or leave it; he was either loved or loathed but he never changed his habits for anyone.)

Hm. The blondish-gold hair in a messy braid looked familiar, as did the strange eye color, the short stature, and the aggressive stance... somebody from Central High? Maybe his drama class? But he was terrible with names. Looking bravely back up at his apparent adversary, he blinked. "Do I know you?"

Tact had never been Envy's strong suit.

'_One Step Closer_'_ - Linkin Park  
Reviews are appreciated, constructive criticism is adored.  
Also, please check out my Christmas-slash-holidays fic. It's called __Good Tidings__, and it's EdxEnvy, and there's actually a kissing scene. Oh, and leave a review for it, too, please!  
Happy Holidays!_


	9. Chapter 9

_oh wow, it's been nearly three months since this story was last updated. i present my deepest apologies, along with my hopes that this chapter will maybe be up to your expectations. i meant to get it up way more than a month ago, but then i got sick (they said it was the flu) for four days, and missed three days of school, and it was valentine's day and i had a fic for that (read it!), and then i got writer's block because it's really tough for me to write both Rose _and _Winry and having them in the same section was hell. -bows- my apologies. i'll do better next time._

**Chapter Nine**_  
easy tonight_

Nothing really ever made much sense to Winry, but she was a sixteen-year-old teenage girl and that was only to be expected. She didn't get drama, or gossip, or trigonometry, or... Rose. What was the girl thinking, as she sat in the passenger seat of Winry's souped up Ford Taurus and stared stonily out the window? What did a pregnant seventeen-year-old think about, anyway?

The blonde bit her lip as she coasted to a gentle stop at a red light. She gave Rose a sidelong glance, then looked away quickly, just in case the brunette caught her staring. Tapping her fingers against the steering wheel, she debated speaking or turning on the radio or doing _something_ to break the escalating awkward silence, but the radio might be annoying and Rose might just not talk. She hadn't talked, in fact, since Granny Pinako had elicited the directions to her house.

Rose sniffled a bit and Winry resisted the urge to break down and hug her. How would it feel to know that you were pregnant and abandoned before you even reached voting age? Of course, Rose probably had loving parents that would take her in and care for her in the baby. They would know what to do, Winry thought firmly. Even though her parents had died when she was three, she still knew that much from the various TV shows and sitcoms Pinako watched incessantly.

Rose's parents would make everything right.

But in the meantime, for the long-ish drive to the other side of town, Winry was stuck with her, and all the contrary emotions she was stirring - pity, fear, sadness, confusion, nervousness... even a little bit of something that Winry might have called love if she hadn't known herself better. Her heart had sped up at Rose's proximity and as the silence lengthened her pulse increased until it was pounding in her ears and she was sure her companion could hear it loud and clear.

Well, Winry asked herself, what else was to be expected? Life wasn't simply rainbows and butterflies and things required compromise (she took that line from an older _Maroon 5 _song) and boy, was she compromising now. She hadn't _wanted_ to drive Rose home - she would have gladly delegated that job to Granny Pinako because being her clumsy self, she was undoubtedly going to mess it up. Somehow. And yet she hadn't _not_ wanted to drive Rose home; it would give them twenty minutes or so together, alone, and that was almost heaven.

It would have been heaven if it hadn't been so nerve-wracking, really.

Life was so unfair.

She was startled out of her rambling thoughts by Rose, who laid a hand on her arm. Winry jumped and the car swerved into the next lane before she hastily righted it, blushing furiously. "Yes?" she asked with gritted teeth, trying to regain her composure.

"It's here," the brunette replied softly, apparently unaffected by the car's sudden changes in direction or Winry's flustered appearance.

"Oh," the blonde replied softly, wincing at her solemn, defeated tone. She brought the car to a stop in front of a run-down apartment complex, looking up at the forbidding brick facade nervously. It was even older than Ed's building, which looked as though it had stepped right out of the 1920s pueblo style revival. Rose silently unbuckled her seatbelt and Winry hesitated. "Would you like me to come with you?"

Without looking up, the girl shrugged and then dipped her head so that her pink bangs hid her eyes.

/Should I take that as a yes/ Winry wondered as she put the car in park and took the keys out of the ignition. Rose was already halfway up the rusting iron fire escape stairs by the time she finished locking the car. Feeling slightly like an unwanted pet, Winry hurried after her until they reached a small door on the second floor.

The room number, _12A_, was marked with a fanciful white wrought iron design. The blonde felt her metalworking instincts take over as she squinted at the workmanship. It was definitely shoddy, but the flourishes were nice. With the right tools and materials, she could probably make something like that in ten minutes. In fact, she could quite possibly improve on it in less time than that.

"Are you coming in?" Rose asked her quietly, still not looking up. Winry started and realized that the brunette had finally finished fumbling with the keys and was holding open the door. Blushing, she smoothed down her skirt and gingerly stepped across the threshold.

The interior of the apartment was dusty, dark, and musty-smelling - nothing like the welcoming, lighted room she had expected. As Rose busied herself with pulling up cobwebby blinds, Winry looked around and wondered just what kind of person lived here. The furniture - a couch, coffee table, and a threadbare easy chair - were all covered with dust, as well as the draperies and the ceiling fan. Cobwebs hung in the corners of the walls and turned what had most likely been white into a nappy grayish color, like clothes that had been washed too many times. 

Essentially, the dwelling looked as though it had been unoccupied for years.

When the room was lighted to her satisfaction, Rose simply slumped into the grimy couch, not even bothering to wipe off the seat. She looked exhausted - there were dark smudges under her eyes that indicated a definite lack of sleep, and her face was much paler than its usual tan.

Winry took one more confused look around the apartment. "You... um... live here, Rose?" she asked hesitantly, not wanting to offend or make assumptions but needing to make sure.

The girl opened weary eyes and shrugged. "Not usually," she replied softly.

"Then why are we here?" the blonde pressed. It was obvious that Rose was in no mood to talk but she needed to know why her crush would stay in a dirty, disgusting apartment all alone. Where were her parents? Did she _have_ parents? She had to have them. It was impossible not to, for someone as perfect as Rose.

"It's my old house."

"But..." Winry was lost for words. She wondered if she was being annoying - she did have a tendency to ask too many questions but in this situation, she deemed all her queries necessary. If Rose would only _talk_ and actually open _up_ a bit more, instead of sitting there like some dumb block of wood...! She chewed on the inside of her lip, trying to quell her frustration. Taking a deep breath, Winry continued her question. "But don't you have anywhere _else_ to go?"

Rose shrugged, and the blonde swore she could scream. Were they just visiting this old building for _nostalgia_, or was Rose well and truly homeless?

Sighing, she brushed off a small area of the coffee table, looking distastefully at the grime that coated her hand, and gingerly took a seat. "And are you planning on living here?" she asked Rose, leaning forward slightly and acting as though she was talking to a child.

"Yes." In all of her fantasies, Rose had been an articulate young woman with a bright sense of humor and a perpetually smiling face. Winry definitely hadn't been prepared for this depressed, taciturn personality, and so she wasn't quite sure how to proceed.

Rose wasn't anything like what she had expected. She wondered why she had even fallen for her in the first place, why she had wasted three years waiting for her. How stupid could she get?

"Don't you have somewhere else to go? Are you all alone here? Where are you parents? Why is it so dirty in here? Why aren't you _talking_?" Winry asked all in a rush. She was sure her annoyance showed but by now she didn't give a damn at all. If Rose could be a sullen little bitch then she could be a nagging one. "Can't you _answer _me?"

When the brunette looked up her violet eyes were filled with tears, but Winry was too exasperated to feel bad. Miraculously, though, she held back her crying and answered the barrage of demands in an unwavering tone. "This apartment hasn't been lived in for three years, since my parents died," she replied quietly. "That's why it's dirty. I'm not talking because I can't right now… And... I have nowhere else to go."

Winry was shocked at the final revelation. "Are you _sure_?" she asked, dumbfounded, only belatedly realizing how idiotic the question sounded. "I mean... aunts? Uncles? Cousins? Friends?" She was reeling with disbelief - how could Rose _not_ have parents? How could she _not_ have a nice little house in the suburbs with a green grass lawn and a white picket fence and a sparkling clean kitchen? Rose wasn't the type of person she ever would have pictured as poor or homeless.

"I used to live with my aunt, who has four children. Then I lived with Kain because I was being a burden. And I suppose I became a burden again." She sighed dejectedly and chewed her bottom lip, absentmindedly placing both hands over her stomach.

"That's not true!" Winry defended violently. "If he was any kind of _good_ boyfriend, he would have stayed with you! He just banged and bailed and it's _not your fault_!" Inwardly, she winced at her word choice, but she was on a roll. "Look. Yeah, you got pregnant, but that doesn't mean people are going to hate you. Sure, you might be treated a little differently but you're still the same person. You just have another person growing inside you, and if that isn't amazing then I don't know what is." She stopped and gave Rose a firm look. "Get it? Nothing is your fault." That might have been a lie but hopefully it made a difference. Clenching her fists and feeling her nails digging into the flesh of her palms, Winry took a deep breath and waited for a reply.

The brunette paused, and smiled halfway. "I don't believe you," she said, and Winry stepped back involuntarily, stunned. "But thank you for trying to help." Settling back in the chair and ignoring the small cloud of dust raised by her actions, she closed her eyes. "You can go back home now, if you want. I would offer you food but I don't think there is any."

Torn between leaving and staying to maybe chat or build some kind of relationship, the blonde gazed around the apartment desperately. Even after ten minutes with occupation and open windows, it looked as grimy and forsaken as ever. "No." she stated impulsively, turning back. "No. You can't stay here."

Rose glanced up with a slightly surprised look on her face, but Winry didn't give either of them time to wonder what was coming next. Astonishing even herself, she said, "Come back with me to my house. You're not a burden to us."

---

"How did you like the movie?" Lyra asked, curling up contentedly in the booth opposite Edward. The two were sitting in a smallish, practically empty cafe whose only specialties seemed to be sushi and bologna sandwiches. She poked coyly at a slice of sashimi with her chopsticks.

Edward shrugged and gave a crooked grin. The show had been a romantic comedy set in 1800s England - definitely not his forte, but anything was better than sitting at home all day having to watch Envy strut around as if he practically owned the place and Al bow and scrape as though Envy really _did_ own the place. "It was good," he replied noncommittally.

The dark haired girl wrapped both her hands around her smoothie cup and stared at him. "What was your favorite part?" she asked, as though she was some kind of police interrogator working for the entertainment business.

Briefly, Ed wondered whether he should give a serious answer. But when he saw the slight smile playing across Lyra's thin, glossed lips, he snickered. "The part where we made out in the movie theater and I didn't watch," he said, popping a slice of California roll into his mouth. "Yours?"

Lyra's smirk widened and Edward congratulated himself on choosing the correct response. "I think my favorite part would be if you went for a little drive with me after dinner," she said in a tone layered with innuendo.

For a moment, Ed was taken aback. He was no novice to flirting but Lyra's hints were about as subtle as a two by four to the forehead. And even though he had _technically_ been attached to Winry for over three years, he was still relatively new to dating, kissing, and girlfriends in general. (Real ones, at least.) But he recovered his composure soon enough. "Sure," he replied, grinning even though he could feel his face flushing embarrassedly.

"Good." his girlfriend replied. "This food sucks. Let's leave now." She shoved her plate away and stood up, car keys dangling from her fingers.

Gratefully, Ed put back the bologna sandwich he was about to reluctantly try, and fished out a twenty dollar bill. At least the cafe was cheap - they were only getting charged about nineteen dollars for their whole meal and the waitress didn't look like she expected _that_ much of a tip - but it was still a waste of money that could have gone towards paying the electricity bill, or the phone company, or the tuition for Al for next year. He sighed and mentally said goodbye to the bill as he followed Lyra out of the building.

Lyra's ostentatious silver convertible was parked at the very end of the lot. It was already unlocked and she was already in the driver's seat, fingers tapping impatiently on the steering wheel, when he arrived. "Aren't you going to put the top down?"

The girl smirked. "Not tonight, I think," she replied, starting the car as he slipped into the passenger's seat. "I have... other plans."

Edward gulped nervously. He could vividly imagine what those 'other plans' were - after all, they were two teenagers, it was dark out, and they were alone in a car - and he found that he wasn't quite as excited as he should have been. In fact, he was feeling a bit uncomfortable at this uninhibited sexual side he had never seen in Lyra before. It was like she had been possessed.

But before he had time to think of a reasonable reply (What _could_ one say to something like that?) Lyra twisted the key in the ignition and they were off to who knew where.

"So... my house or yours?" she asked, and Ed realized he _did _know where they were going, and didn't like it.

"Um... we really don't have to go to anyone's house," he said faintly. Al and Envy were still at home, theoretically, and he was sure Lyra at least had parents where she lived. He didn't want to end up like those foolhardy people on sitcoms who returned home to make out, only to be caught fondling on the couch by their parents. That occurred nearly every time, it seemed, and if real life was anything like television it would surely happen to him.

"The backseat, then?" Lyra questioned, nearly laughing. She slowed and made as if to turn into the nearest parking lot. "I'm fine with pulling over, you know."

Edward could feel a blush heating his cheeks. "That's really not-"

"All right then!" His girlfriend cut him off and steered to the left, into a darkened empty lot. Ed wondered what usually went on here; whether the space was frequented by gangs and if they would be broken up by several leering men holding broken bottles. He winced at the thought.

"Seriously, Lyra, we don't have to-"

"_So_. Are you a virgin?"

Ed started and widened his eyes at the blunt question. "Well, I'm, um..." he stuttered, leaning away from Lyra slightly. "It's not-"

"Yes. Well then..." She leaned in closer and, trying to get away from her, Edward felt the handle of the car door jabbing uncomfortably into his back. "You won't be one for long." Ignoring his discomfort, she grabbed the collar of his t-shirt and leant in to kiss him forcefully.

Before their lips could meet, Ed turned his head to the side so that they simply brushed against his cheek. "Look, Lyra, I don't think this is really the best idea. We've been dating for, what, five days?"

"And...?" Lyra asked huskily, managing to make even confusion into something sexual. "Why does that even matter?"

"Because I don't think-" Before Lyra could cut him off with a kiss, he shoved her away. "I don't think that we should be having... having _sex_ after going out for such a short time! It's not-" He pushed her away again, growing frustrated at his girlfriend's incomprehension. "It's not right!"

The dark-haired girl raised an eyebrow, looking cross. "Are you saying you _don't_ want to have sex?" she asked, as though the very idea was somehow repulsive to her. "What, have you been listening too much to Ms. Hawkeye?" Hawkeye was the sophomore biology teacher in charge of sex ed.

"No, it's just-" Ed paused. Why _did_ this seem so wrong to him/Because she doesn't really like you/ a voice in the back of his mind prompted. /Because you're just sex and when she's done with you she'll move on to the next victim and it won't matter. Because there's no love involved at all./

That was it. _Love_.

"You don't love me, do you?" he asked abruptly, staring at Lyra and wondering why the hell he had wanted to date her in the first place. She had managed to mess up her unnaturally straight hair even though they hadn't even _done_ anything, and her bluish eyes looked vacant with desire. Edward couldn't help his feeling of disgust.

Lyra remained silent.

Ed snorted. "You don't, do you? There's nothing even _resembling_ love in here." He glared, and wondered why this was such a big deal to him. People had sex all the time, right? And it was usually as trivial, if not more so, than this - locked in the back of a convertible at night in an empty lot.

"Does that even _matter_?" Lyra spat, still looking confused. Apparently, she had realized Ed wasn't actually planning to lose his virginity to her, he thought bitterly.

"Yeah, actually," he replied icily. "It does." With that, he fumbled open the car door and let himself out into the cool summer night. He didn't care anymore. Lyra could _shove it_ for all he cared. Relationships needed love, not sex. _He_ needed love, not sex.

---

Envy lay on the couch, his fingers dangling over the edge and barely brushing the beige carpeting. He stared at the stained white ceiling, wondering how his life had gotten to this all time low. His parents had disowned him, his best friend had _fucked_ him, and now he was stuck in a stranger's apartment, and said stranger seemed to have a totally unexplained, absolute _hatred_ for him.

Things were looking up, he thought sarcastically.

The teenager sighed, stretched out his legs, and sighed again for good measure. Behind him, in the kitchen, he heard a metallic clatter on the floor. The little brother, Al, was trying to bake brownies or something domestic like that. Envy couldn't have cared less, only the brunet was making too much noise to be completely unnoticeable and the delicious smell of chocolate had permeated the entire room.

He wondered when the last time was that he had eaten a decent meal. Decent, of course, meaning high quality, possibly gourmet food cooked in his family's kitchen. It had been too long, really. And how long since he had slept in a decent bed? Not counting the time he had woken up in Kimbley's room (that bed hadn't even remotely _resembled_ 'decent'), it had also been too long.

He sighed once more, and shifted so that he was facing the floral print back of the sofa. He was spoiled, and he knew it, but that didn't change the fact that he longed for the once commonplace luxuries he had enjoyed.

Of course, Envy wasn't _about _to go to his parents and beg to be let back into the family.

His cell phone vibrated against his thigh, shaking him out of his monotonous reverie. Curiously, he reached into his shorts pocket and dug it out, wondering who could possibly be calling him. Maybe Greed...? Perhaps his parents had realized what stupid, overreacting idiots they had been and were inviting him back. Or maybe one of his old girlfriends wanted to know where he had been, since he hadn't checked his myspace page in nearly a week.

He flipped it open incautiously, and it greeted him with an unwelcome message.

From: **Crimson**  
Hey babe hows it going with no house? lol living on the streets yet?  
Callback Number: 530-345-0812

Glaring, the teenager contemplated throwing the phone against the wall. In addition to letting out his rage, it would get Kimbley out of his life for _good_ - with no phone and no computer, the stupid bastard had no way of contacting him.

But instead, reasoning that it was better to be able to keep tabs on the fucking rapist instead of absolutely no idea where he was or what he was doing, Envy simply shut the cell phone and slipped it back into his pockets, wearily massaging the bridge of his nose.

Maybe it would be better if he told somebody about what an absolute prick Kimbley turned out to be, he thought. Getting it all out could possibly end a lot of his issues. Possibly. Theoretically.

He nearly snorted. The last thing he needed was some kind of concerned counselor prying into his business. Besides, he had had sex before and it was never really a big deal. Why did he feel the need to make a big deal out of _this_? And he had been drunk and willing, and teenage inebriation was illegal in Central whereas teenage _fucking_ was not.

So, catch-22, who cared, he was stuck in a strange apartment and life was just peachy.

His phone vibrated once more, and with a slight, quickly squashed feeling of trepidation, he opened it.

From: **Crimson**  
I know ur there baby dont b shy. hope u found some1 to take u in but if u didnt i can hook u up.  
Callback Number: 530-345-0812

/Hook me up with _what_/ Envy wondered, feeling slightly sick. It was funny how, in three days, he had gone from actually _liking_ Kimbley to hating his guts. He found it hard to believe that they had once been best friends. Or that he had called Kimbley his best friend, really.

It made him wonder just how poor his judgment really was.

The cell phone vibrated once more, but this time Envy ignored it. Knowing Kimbley, the text messages would simply get more and more lewd until he forgot he was texting Envy entirely. Instead, he was struck by a new idea.

"Hey, Al," he called into the kitchen, getting up from the couch and stretching luxuriously. "Do you know how to block someone from texting you?"

The brunet looked up from an electric mixer, his chin dusted with cocoa powder. "No," he replied curiously. "Why?"

Envy shrugged and ambled into the kitchen, peering at the array of pans and kitchen ingredients piled on the counter. Baking grease, water, eggs, vegetable oil, flour, powdered sugar... the closest he had ever been to actual food preparation before this was his brief stay in home ec class. (That had abruptly ended due to a flour explosion, or some such accident that Envy still swore he _didn't_ do.) "No reason," he said innocently. "I was just wondering."

Alphonse, looking slightly distracted by his task, nodded.

Deciding that watching the kid was more interesting than staring at the ceiling all night, Envy took a seat at the dinner table, crossing one leg over the other and observing the brownie-making process. His phone beeped irritably but he ignored it, not even bothering to take it out and turn it off.

"Have you ever made brownies before?" Al asked, trying to break the slightly awkward silence between them while wrestling the mix into a 13x9 inch baking pan.

Envy stared at the dark, wet mixture as it spiraled down from the mixing bowl. "Nah," he replied. "I don't really cook."

The brunet had the grace to look surprised, before smiling. "I guess you haven't tasted brownie mix, then," he said, scraping the remnants of batter out of the bowl with a flattish, white tool that Envy, for the life of him, was unable to name. A few moments later, the utensil was stuck in his face, still coated with chocolate.

"Here," Al said, apparently wanting him to take it. "Lick it off the spatula."

"Lick _what_ off the _what_?" the long-haired teenager asked, unpleasant memories involving Kimbley and too much to drink surfacing in his mind. He wrinkled his nose and leaned back from the dripping mess.

The kid sighed, and poked Envy's firmly closed lips with the tool. "Lick the _brownie mix_ off the _spatula_," he said impatiently. "This is a spatula." He poked Envy's lips again. "Hurry up and take it; I need to get these in the oven before Ed comes home."

Warily, the teenager took the _spatula_ by its wooden handle and tasted the mix. It was, surprisingly, _very_ good - like gooey chocolate, only kind of grainy and really wet. "Yum," he said appreciatively, thoroughly cleaning the flat plastic.

Shutting the oven and taking off the oven mitt, Al dusted off his hands and joined Envy, sitting down at the table. He wiped his forehead and slumped, stretching out his legs. "Geez, it's so _hot_ out," he complained, staring morosely out the darkened window. "I forgot the oven heated up the kitchen so much..."

Envy, occupied with licking off the very last bit of brownie mix, didn't reply - it would have been hard to say anything coherent, anyway, as he had turned his head sideways and was practically gnawing on the handle.

Alphonse, watching him, giggled. "I think it's all gone, Envy," he said, and reached to grab a towel from the counter. "You've got brownie on your nose. Come here."

The teenager raised an eyebrow at the boy's motherly demeanor but, mellowed by the chocolate, eventually leaned forward so Al could wipe the batter from his nose.

At that moment, the door slammed open and Ed stormed inside. He looked, Envy thought, _royally_ pissed - maybe his date or however hadn't turned out so well, or something. But who cared? The guy was nearly as bad as Kimbley, only not so sexual.

The blonde took one look at the scene in the kitchen and abruptly turned on his heel and stormed back out, presumably heading to his bedroom.

"Hey big brother, how was your..." Al's voice trailed off as a door slammed in the hallway. He sighed, and stood. "Take the brownies out when the oven beeps," he instructed Envy on his way out of the kitchen. "You can have them all, if you want."

Alone, Envy glanced at the kitchen towel that had fallen forgotten to the floor, then growled and impatiently rubbed the chocolate from his nose.

Things were _definitely_ looking up.

_I made a pun. Envy was "mellowed by the chocolate". Get it? Mellow, Mello, chocolate? Any _Death Note_ fans? -laughs weakly-  
Anyway...  
_"_Easy Tonight_" _by _Five for Fighting.  
_Reviews are appreciated, constructive criticism is adored._


	10. Chapter 10

_So this hasn't been updated for nearly a year. Huh. Go figure. I was going to keep this on hiatus until I finished some of my other multichaptered stories, but circumstances changed and __Potions for Foxes__ challenged me to update this as much and as fast as possible until January 4. So... here I go.  
If this chapter sucks, blame her, not me.  
...Ugh._

**Chapter Ten**  
_riot_

Twenty-five text messages. Twenty-two of them from Kimbley, getting raunchier as time went on, and three from various girls - one he had banged already, two he hadn't. Envy scanned the contents of one (_omg hey i got ur number from ash and ur so cool_) then slumped forward, so that his chin was resting on the kitchen table and the hand holding his phone was stretched out far in front of him.

Kimbley had texted him last at two-thirty a.m. He supposed he should be grateful that the prick had gotten drunk, or high, or something, and forgotten him. But at the same time, Envy couldn't help wondering whether this would sum up his whole summer - twenty-two texts from Kimbley, three texts from girls, someone else's apartment, and the hot, bright sun streaming in through the kitchen window.

And nothing, yet, from his parents. Though he was beginning to think of that as a lost cause.

It really was warm for only ten o'clock in the morning, Envy thought, using his slouched position to lean even more forward and stretch out his stomach and shoulders like a cat. He yawned, and wished for a better air conditioner. And better friends. And a place to sleep where he didn't feel constant hostility emanating from someone he barely even knew.

Seriously! What the _hell_ had he ever done to make Ed hate him so much? Envy couldn't really think of any reason someone would hate him, except the fact that he existed. Or maybe he had sex with one of Ed's ex-girlfriends and the guy was one of those creepy possessive freaks. Which would be weird. Sure, Envy was possessive, maybe more possessive than most, but that was for his actual belongings. He couldn't understand someone who would actually treat a person like that. He had never met someone even worthy of that level of absolute devotion.

Envy sighed gustily, loudly, and relaxed from his stretch, laying his cheek down on the cool wood of the table in search of some kind of relief from the burning heat. If this early June weather was any indication, Central was in for a sweltering summer. Personally, Envy blamed global warming.

For no reason in particular, he flipped open his phone again. It was one of those fancy cell phones that had a wide, flip-top screen with a keyboard underneath, and was colored a shiny black. There were no new messages, but he had received a voicemail from Kimbley at twelve o'clock a.m.; would he like to open it?

The teenager deleted it without even listening to what his erstwhile friend had to say, then shut his eyes. His life fucking _sucked_ - at least, the past week or so had fucking _sucked_, and he was beginning to see how much had sucked before that too. Like his choice in friends. Who, besides him, would be enough of an idiot to -

His self-reproaching train of thought was cut off by the arrival of a stormy looking Edward. In concession to the heat, the blonde had donned a black wife-beater, but kept his usual black pants. Or rather, jeans. He was probably one of those strange people that always wore pants, never shorts. Envy - clad in a skimpy tank top and Bermuda shorts - was still practically boiling; he couldn't imagine how uncomfortable Ed must be feeling.

Not that he cared. The bastard was eyeing him with the same baleful golden glare he had been using ever since Envy arrived. The long-haired teenager met his gaze for an instant, then turned away, back to his cell phone. /Whatever, bitch./

Envy heard Ed's bare feet shuffle across the tiled kitchen floor, and then the fridge opening with a horrible squeak. He tilted his head a little and out of the corner of his eye saw the blonde extracting a carton of orange juice, placing it on the counter.

When Ed reached up into the cupboard to get a glass, Envy couldn't resist anymore. "Get me one, too," he said, closing his eyes and resting his head back against the table. Maybe the cool drink would help fight the heat.

It might have been just his imagination but he could have sworn that the cupboard door slammed louder than was necessary. Curious, Envy looked up just in time to see Edward stalking toward the table with two brimming glasses of orange juice. The blonde slammed one of them down in front of Envy so hard that the liquid sloshed over the side and splattered on Envy's hand.

"Hey!" He snatched it away, shaking off the juice, and inspected the cell phone for damage. Nothing major. Wiping the phone on his shorts, he glared at Ed. "Be more careful next time, okay?"

"Excuse me?" Ed's voice was pitched low and angry, but Envy had a bad habit of ignoring danger signs. (After all, why else would he be in this type of situation in the first place?)

"I said," the teenager replied, speaking slowly in case Ed hadn't caught his hasty words, "_be more careful next time_."

Before Envy could even blink, Ed's fist slammed into his chest, driving the breath from his lungs with a _whoosh_. He doubled over, chin cracking painfully against the table in his surprise. "A-Ah... What..." He coughed. "What the _hell_?"

"Shut _up_!" Ed cried, breathing hard and furiously. He was obviously holding himself back from hitting Envy even more. "Like you have a right to say that! Like you have a right to say _anything_! All this -" He gestured violently with one hand, knocking over Envy's glass of orange juice with a thud and sending the orange liquid in a flood across the table. "You act like all of this is _yours_, like we're your _servants_, because you're some pampered spoiled rich _brat_ who's never had to work a day in his life and -"

Scarcely aware of what he was doing, Envy stood and knocked over his chair. It fell on the tile with a clatter. "Oh? Is that it? Well, _servant_, why don't you clean up the damn orange juice? Do I say things like that? All I asked for was for you to pour me some fucking juice, and you fucking blow up on me? What the fuck?" He was still gasping from Ed's punch, and took a moment here to snatch a few deep breaths.

"Yeah? That's all you ask? Oh, so you didn't _need_ to ask to get into our house and start eating our food and drinking our fucking orange juice that _I _work hard to pay for in the first place, because you own this house. You own this _town_. Isn't that right, Envy who's-too-good-for-a-last-name? You think just because your parents -"

"Parents?!" Envy's voice cracked and he swallowed, embarrassed but too incensed to give up the fight. "_Parents_! You don't know a thing about my parents, so stop acting like you've got my life all neatly figured out. Because whatever you think, you're dead wrong. Hell, I don't even know -"

"Oh, _I'm_ wrong? Even though you're the one treating me like _shi_ -"

"Shit! _Shit_! If you didn't glare at me like some arrogant son of a bitch every time you walked past, would I treat you like shit? Hell, do I even treat you like shit? What the fuck is up your ass? A ten-foot pole? Or did someone teach you that being nice is one of the seven deadly sins?"

Suddenly, surprisingly, Ed burst out laughing. But it wasn't carefree or humorous in any way. And when he looked up, his eyes were still furious. "Happiness isn't, but _you _are. What, was your mom on crack?"

"Hell if I know!" Envy yelled, raising his voice louder than the angry speaking tones that they had confined themselves to before. "Hell if I care! Answer the damn question!"

"What question?" the blonde asked, just as loud as Envy.

"Why the hell you have it out to get me when you don't even know me! _That_ question!"

Edward's anger suddenly turned from hot to cold, and Envy could swear the blonde was giving off a palpable chill. He advanced towards Envy one step at a time, punctuating his words by making the long-haired teenager take a few involuntary stumbles backwards. "Because," he said, glaring fiercely. "Because I know you enough that I know I'll never be able to get along with someone like you. _You're_ the type of spoiled rich brat that always gets whatever he wants. You've probably never had to work for a day. You think you can have sex with whoever - _whatever_," he spat, "you want. You're just a little kid who thinks that the _world_ -" and here he reached out and shoved, hard, so that Envy's back slammed against the window, the sill digging painfully into his spine "- revolves around _him_." Another shove.

Growling, Envy pushed Ed away as hard as he could. "Shut the _fuck_ up," he hissed. "Don't you even dare talk about me like that. Do you know what the fuck I've been through? You and Al never once asked me why I showed up on your doorstep. Your brother did it out of _politeness_. But you already had the little scenario worked out all nice and pretty in your mind." He took a step forward and it was Ed's turn to blunder back. "Do you know what assumptions do, bitch?"

"You're a liar and -"

Envy leaned forward. "_Assumptions _make an _ass_ out of everyone. But actually, you're the only ass in this building. At least your _brother_ -" he nodded to the doorway "- is a _decent_ human being."

Almost involuntarily, Edward turned to the kitchen entryway. Alphonse was standing there, hair still wet from the shower, looking stricken. "Brother..." he said, and something in his voice made Ed's anger flame even brighter. He turned back to Envy, shoved him so hard that his feet tangled together and he fell backwards and hit his head hard against the wall, then marched out.

"When I come back -" he began, then punched the wall and stopped himself, breaking into a run as he reached the hallway and slamming the front door as hard as possible on his way out.

---

Although she had the means to live well, thanks to a generous inheritance from her deceased great uncle, Izumi Curtis preferred the simple life. She had bought a house in the firmly middle class area of southern Central and proceeded to live her life as a simple housewife, supported by the butcher shop of her husband, Sig. Their residence had been built specially with several extra rooms and a large backyard, because Izumi's dream, ever since she was seven years old and became acquainted with her adorable little cousin, was to have children.

Of course, ever since the accident three months after she had married, that was impossible.

It had been nearly fifteen years, but it still hurt. Figuratively _and_ literally.

She turned aside to cough into her ever-present handkerchief, earning a concerned look from the small, brown-haired girl sitting next to her on the piano bench. "It's all right, Nina," she reassured the child, waving away her concern. "Keep playing."

Nina nodded and resumed laboriously reading the sheet music Izumi had just handed her (_Malagueña_, by Sarasate), finding the notes one at a time with a look of adorable, wide-eyed concentration gracing her delicate features.

Unexpectedly, the door rang, throwing Nina off again. She frowned and peered closer at the music as Izumi heard Sig's heavy footsteps clumping through the hall and into the entryway. She supposed she was lucky it was a Saturday; otherwise she would have had to interrupt the piano lesson and open the door herself. "It's an A," she told Nina, pointing out the correct key. "Right here."

"Oh," Nina said with the bright, sunny smiles that made her one of Izumi's favorite pupils. "Right."

After only a few notes they were interrupted a _third _time, as Sig stopped at the doorway to the lesson room and coughed into his hand.

"Yes, dear?" Izumi asked, not looking up.

Sig cleared his throat. His voice was deep and gravelly. "Someone here to see you, hon." She looked up at him sharply, and saw that his expression was grave. "Ed. Edward Elric."

Why was her husband looking so worried...? Distracted, she half stood, putting a few fingers to the sheet music to keep it in place on the music stand. "Ed?" Although she was normally unflappable, the housewife couldn't help but be worried. "Is he -"

"Fine, fine," Sig replied, although Izumi wasn't convinced. "I told him you were in the middle of a lesson. Says he'll wait."

"Right..." Izumi said, sitting back down slowly and coughing once more into a handkerchief. "Then... Nina, keep playing please. We only have ten more minutes together until you go on your vacation and I want you to have plenty of things to practice in case Disneyland gets too boring."

Nina giggled, covering her mouth with one hand as she laughed, and Izumi permitted herself a small smile. "All right," the girl replied. "Miss Curtis, how should I play this chord?"

---

This house was as familiar to Ed as their own small apartment - more familiar, in fact, because they had switched residences when he was thirteen, and he and Al had been coming here for more than seven years. There was the abstract, pastel painting on the living room wall, and here was the collection of ratty, dog-eared _Home and Family_ magazines. Usually, Ed looked at them with a mixture of pity and regret, but today he had no room for any emotion except a dull, red fury.

Slumped on the couch, he glared at the austere, white ceiling, rubbing the knuckles of his right hand. Strangely enough they still throbbed a little from when he had hit Envy. He wondered if the stupid rich prince was still in pain as well.

That thought made him grit his teeth and clench his fists so hard that the nails began to bite into his palms. He hadn't meant to blow up at Envy like that, especially in front of Al, but looking back he began to realize that it was probably inevitable. He knew himself well enough to realize that he couldn't have sat around much longer and let Envy boss them around like that.

Stupid bitch, stupid _son_ of a bitch, thought he owned everything, thought because he was rich he could fuck with people's minds, mooch off hard-earned food - as if Ed and Al's lives weren't difficult enough. Edward was about to -

Izumi entered the room looking the same as she had the last time Ed had seen her, nearly half a year ago. Her customary plain white dress left her arms bare and the tattoo on her shoulder clearly visible - a cross with a snake winding around it, adorned with a crown and wings. When Edward had asked her about it when she was a child, the woman had explained it away with a shrug. "What are you here for?" Izumi asked him, looking concerned.

"Er..." Now that he was faced with the person he had walked hallway across Central to talk to, Ed found himself getting tongue-tied. The sight of his old teacher was always formidable, so much so that this often happened. He would be perfectly confident, perfectly self-assured... until he came face to face and met her hard brown eyes. "That is..."

"What, Edward?" Izumi's former concern (/Concern?!/ Ed thought, wondering that the woman could even _show_ an emotion like that) evaporated quickly in the face of his stammering explanation. "Tell me - how are things at home?"

"That's exactly what I wanted to talk to you about," Edward said, relieved. "I've been having some problems - not with Al," he amended hastily. "It's just -" A pause.

Izumi sat down in the armchair positioned across from the chair, crossing one leg over the other and looking like nothing so much as a demure housewife. "Your mother? She's fine, isn't she?" When Ed didn't reply at once, she frowned. "She is doing fine, right? Still stable?"

"Oh, no, that's not the problem." Edward swallowed, and suddenly found words pouring out of his mouth faster than he could think. "The thing is - the thing is, we just got out of school and there's this guy, he goes to my school and he's really rich. He's Dante's kid - you know, _the_ Dante? - and I don't know why but he somehow ended up on our doorstep and Al let him in and now he's, like, sleeping at _our_ house on _our_ couch and he won't leave!"

The woman raised an eyebrow. "And...?" she asked, wondering why something as trivial as this would merit Edward coming to see her for advice. Hell, she didn't even know who _the_ Dante was, even though Ed apparently expected her to.

"And so, I don't even know _why _he can't stay at his huge mansion up in the rich district or why he can't stay with one of the girlfriends he's constantly having sex with. It's like he picked us out just to torment us - to torment _me_!"

"...How is that tormenting?" Izumi questioned, still not quite understanding.

Edward leaned forward and banged his fist against the table. The housewife winced but did nothing to stop him - for the moment, at least. Once he had gotten all this out of his system, she would give him a lecture about respecting other people's furniture.

"Look. Envy - that's his name, it's seriously a _name_ - is a rich, spoiled little brat. He lies around on the couch all day, sleeps on the couch, doesn't do anything to help out, spends the whole time just checking his cell phone... The only person he'll talk to is Al. But he expects to have dinner cooked for him every night, and juice, and breakfast, and the shower, and his shampoo which Al ran out to buy first thing in the morning when he found out we didn't have it." He growled. "Of _course_ we didn't have it! He uses some special b.s. salon brand!"

Izumi raised an eyebrow. "How well do you know this Envy?" she asked, trying to get a handle on the situation.

Ed, breathing hard in his anger, continued without really answering her question. "He's just so - so - _stupid_! He's never done a day's work in his life! He doesn't know what it's like to be struggling for years and years just to keep your head above water or to actually have problems or how it feels when everything is going wrong! And yet he expects us to sympathize with him and provide for him and cater to his every _whim_! Everything he wants, he gets! He thinks the world is going to get handed to him on a giant silver platter if he just sits there and looks rich and pretty."

The blonde was nearly yelling. "He expects everyone to be looking out for _him_; it's all about _him_; his money can buy him anything now and he can leave anyone - leave everyone - get whatever he wants whenever he wants it and if his obligations happen to be _inconvenient_ for him, he'll just walk away! Because he's that kind of person! His money has done everything for him and now he expects us to be watching him because he's just so pretty - special - perfect in every way - _rich_ and that's not how life is and I don't _want_ to!"

"Edward..." Izumi leaned forward and met his flaming golden eyes. "Edward, are you talking about that kid... or about your dad?"

The wind went out of his sails with an almost audible _whoosh_. "It's not -"

"_And_," Izumi continued, cutting him off forcefully, "it sounds like you barely even know this guy. What makes you think that -"

Ed's anger returned full force. He smacked his hand down on the table (/_Again_/, Izumi groaned mentally) and said, "I don't _need _to know him to know that he's a -"

When she put her mind to it, Izumi could hit _extremely_ hard.

---

Envy practically fell into the bathroom, turning the lock on the door as soon as he shut it and ignoring Alphonse's concerned call of, "Envy, you alright?" Pressing a hand to his aching chest, he braced his calves against the ceramic of the bathtub and slowly slid down until he was sitting on the cheerful blue rug, knees drawn up to his chest. His head hurt where it had knocked against the wall when Ed pushed him, his ribs hurt from where Ed had punched him... his wrist was sticky and probably tasted like orange juice.

Other than a bland sort of self-pity, the only thought in Envy's head was (if he had to put it into words) /What the hell?/. The outburst had begun so suddenly that he wasn't even sure now what had caused it. Ed gave him the orange juice and glared, then he was suddenly shouting at the top of his lungs, hitting him - well, that was only twice, and Envy _had_ received worse knocks, but it still hurt.

He rubbed the back of his head and winced when he felt a rapidly swelling bump. Damn.

And damn again, because, really, what _had_ he done?

Besides, of course, be a spoiled rich brat who never had to work a day in his life and was just mooching off the Elrics because he _wanted_ to - as if he would ever want to live completely dependent on someone else's charity. /But you were dependent on your parents,/ a niggling little voice in the back of his head told him. /Never had to work a day in your life - that's true, isn't it? Never had to work, never wanted to work, spending Dante's money just like water because she can afford it./

"Shut up," Envy muttered, glaring at the sink. So what, now even his conscience was starting to sound like Ed?

The thoughts kept coming. /And you're always blaming other people for your own problems, and you think the world owes you, and you automatically think everything will go _your_ way because your mother is famous./

Envy rested his arms on his knees and put his head down, ignoring the ache in his chest and the soreness at the back of his neck. "Okay, I _get_ it," he groaned. His voice was muffled but it still sounded ridiculously whiny. He _hated_ -

There was a soft knock on the door. "Envy..." Alphonse called through the white-painted wood. "Envy, you're in there, right?"

"Yeah," he replied flatly, lifting his head from the door.

A pause, as if Al expected him to continue. Finally, the boy asked, "Are you okay? I mean, big brother pushed you really hard and you fell into the wall..."

"Yeah," Envy said again. "I'm fine."

There was another short silence and the long-haired teenager began to wonder if Alphonse had left. His hopes were dashed when the boy continued, "Look, Envy, I'm really sorry about what big brother did."

"Yeah..." His phone - he hadn't realized he was still holding it - vibrated and he flipped it open without thinking.

"Usually he's much more patient. His behavior has been really bad with you and it's just not _like_ him. I hope you don't get the wrong impression of us... He's really nice, usually..."

From: **Crimson**  
i kno ur there en. cum 2 my house and we can be hot 2gether.  
Callback Number: 530-345-0812

Disgusted, the teenager shut his phone. Why had he expected anything different? Why would anyone have a reason to text him, besides Kimbley and whatever girls he had been trying to catch? He leaned his head back onto the side of the bathtub, feeling the cool ceramic press uncomfortably on his newly formed bruise, and stared up at the ceiling with half-lidded eyes.

"Envy?" Al asked.

"It's okay," Envy told him. "It's okay."

Though exactly _what _was okay about the whole situation was beyond him.

---

"Fuck," Edward said, the curse summing up the majority of his feelings. It felt good, cussing, so he said it again. "Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck." Each word was accented by a scuffling footstep as he trudged his way down the street, squinting a little in the bright noonday sun. "Fuck."

Now that he thought about it, coming to Izumi for advice had probably been a mistake. After six years of piano tutelage and two more years of friendship, though, it had seemed the natural thing to do. Plus, she was the closest thing to an adult authority figure Ed had in his life, ever since his mother -

Ed huffed and shook his head. If that wasn't pathetic - relying on his piano teacher for guidance that had nothing at all to do with music. And then being surprised when said piano teacher hit him, even though he should have been used to Izumi's violent tendencies by now. And then making a promise to her because he was afraid she would hit him again...

"Pathetic," Edward spat, though the word didn't give him quite as much satisfaction as 'fuck'. "She knows I never break my promises. And if I broke this one, she would _kill _me. And then mom would kill me, if she ever found out."

He knew he was muttering out loud, but didn't bother to stop himself - in the heat of the day the wiser (or luckier) residents of Central had gone home to take advantage of their air conditioning and sleep, and the rest were still at work, probably sleeping as well. Ed didn't blame them. At least their apartment had a working A/C; that was one thing to be thankful for.

Though their apartment also contained a certain long-haired _dead weight_, who was probably sulking somewhere and being comforted by Al.

"_Fuck_!" He kicked the concrete of the sidewalk and felt a little better at slight pain in his toes. Maybe he could get out more of his frustration if he went around beating up inanimate objects. It would certainly be better than punching Envy - well, maybe not better for his fists, but at least he would stop looking like the bad guy. /Even though my outburst was _completely_ justified,/ he thought with a grumble. /Even though no one else understands what a humongous prick he is and how it would be better off if he just _left_ and stopped wedging himself into _my_ life./

That thought made Izumi's question come back to him - '_Are you talking about that kid... or about your dad?_' - and he kicked the pavement again, jumping on it for good measure. "He's not my dad!" he said, nearly shouting. "This doesn't have anything to _do_ with my dad!"

Growling inarticulately, he sped up, then slowed down. Even though it was boiling hot outside, he didn't want to go back to the apartment. Didn't want to deal with Envy lazing around all the time and asking for things, didn't want to put up with Al's broken-hearted puppydog looks. Didn't want to keep his promise...

But he knew he would have to, eventually.

He was in no hurry.

---

"_Riot_" by Three Days Grace.

_Please review, because I like reviews, and also - I mentioned that __Potions for Foxes__ challenged me to update this as much as I could over Christmas break. She's also updating her story, _'Stuttering Towards Ecstasy'_ and it'd be cool if you would go over there and check it out.  
... And tell her you're rooting for me._


	11. Chapter 11

_i typed this whole chapter on my brother's laptop. y'all should be proud of me. it was tough. but it's over now. and i love envy. and roy. now, before i spoil anything..._

**Chapter 11**  
_forever and always_

/He sleeps with his stomach out,/ Envy thought. It was almost endearing - made Ed seem less like an asshole, or an enemy, and more like a human being.

"You should probably wake him up," Envy told Al, who was standing in the bedroom doorway next to him, also looking at Ed sprawled across his bed. "I'd do it, but he'd probably bite. Or something."

After their fight a week days before, Ed seemed to have resigned himself to Envy's presence. The long-haired teenager didn't know where he had gone when he stormed out of the house, but when he walked back in he had, albeit grudgingly, said Envy could stay. And then locked himself in his room.

Envy hadn't seen much of him since then, as he seemed to be doing his best to avoid the teenager - which was fine! As long as Envy had a place to sleep and wasn't getting punched around, or, you know, _raped_, life was good.

For the most part. It would be better if Kimbley would stop texting him already.

"I'll wake him up in a minute," Al replied, turning away. "It's only ten thirty. He probably stayed up late last night anyway."

Envy followed him back to the kitchen. "You're such a nice brother," he said, only half meaning his sarcastic tone.

Alphonse shrugged and smiled. "He'd do the same for me."

Feeling that he had been exposed to an entirely _different_ side of Ed, Envy wisely kept his mouth shut.

"Today's Thursday," Al declared as he returned to the sink and donned the yellow rubber gloves he used when washing dishes.

The rush of water into the sink almost drowned out Envy's reply. "So?"

"Um, well, we didn't leave last week because Ed didn't want to, um, leave the house..." Al trailed off, letting Envy know that the reason for the interruption in their schedule was an awkward subject. Probably something like, 'We can't leave that bastard alone in the house' or something. "But we'll probably be out for most of the day today." He shrugged and gave Envy an apologetic smile. "You'd probably be bored half to death if you came, anyway."

/And Ed doesn't want me there, I'd bet,/ Envy thought wryly. "That's okay," he said out loud. "I'll be fine here. I'll watch TV or something."

"All right. I'm really sorry that we're leaving you and stuff."

"No, no, it's your life, it's fine." Envy waved a hand. He was a bit surprised at how much Al tried to include him in their family life, as it were - like he was actually a member of the family instead of some kind of leech. He barely even knew the kid, but Al was already apologizing that he were unable to spend the day with them. As if Envy wanted to spend any more time than necessary with Ed. Al - that would be okay, it'd just feel _weird_.

Their conversation was halted by a slamming door from down the hall. /And here comes Ed,/ Envy thought with an eye roll.

"Al!" the blonde called, rushing into the kitchen and confirming Envy's suspicions. "Al, we've gotta go! It's past ten thirty; we're going to be late! Why didn't you wake me up?" He skidded to a halt, pulling on his shirt and glancing wildly around the room. It was as if he didn't even see Envy. "Come on, come on!"

Sighing, Alphonse turned off the sink, pulled off his gloves, and smoothed his dark blonde hair back from his eyes. "Sorry, big brother. You looked so peaceful... even though you were sleeping with your stomach out again." He grinned.

"Aw, come on, Al, you know we have to get out of the house!" He rummaged through the fridge, grabbed a bottle of Coke, and ran out of the house. "Winry got the car back to us! I'll be waiting for you in the parking lot!"

Al finished straightening the kitchen, then turned to give Envy another apologetic look. "Sorry about this," he said again. "There's food in the fridge - feel free to help yourself for lunch. Um, I don't think Ed would be comfortable if you left, or went in his room, so..." He looked away. "Um, sorry again."

"It's _fine_," Envy said for what felt like the hundredth time since he had begun staying with the Elrics. "I'll just sit on the couch, watch TV... you know."

"Okay." Grabbing a bottled water for himself, Al headed out the door. "Bye, Envy!"

Envy gave the boy a bemused wave, wondering, not for the first time, why Al cared so much. "See ya."

---

Rose opened the guitar case with an almost reverent care, unlocking the silver clasps with four identical _snaps_ and then lifting the leather lid with a small indrawn breath. It was still there, still beautiful.

Her guitar wasn't one of those tacky electric ones, or even a cheap acoustic - made out of dark, softly shining wood and designed with a female owner in mind, it was one of the most beautiful things she had ever seen. The most beautiful thing she owned, now that Cain was gone.

Cain. _Cain_.

As she lifted the guitar out of its case, she gripped the neck with probably more vehemence than necessary. But she wouldn't cry. She was done crying. _Done_ crying. Cain wasn't worth another minute of her time. _He_ had broken up with _her_; it wasn't _her_ fault...

But the fact that he had broken up with her meant that she had done something to make him want to leave. /_I love you, let's be together forever, Rose. I love you more than anything./_

_/Get away from me! I never want to see you again!/_

But it wasn't her fault. Winry had said it wasn't her fault.

_/It's all your fault_./ Cain had said it was all her fault. What did she do? She didn't know who to believe. She didn't know why - didn't understand.

Rose sat down on her bed - her borrowed bed, Winry's bed - and strummed each of the guitar strings in turn - _E, A, D, G, B, E_ - and then back down again - _E, B, G, D, A, E_. It was out of tune, but she could take care of that.

Deep down, Rose knew why Cain had broken up with her. And even deeper, she knew that crying over it was the most irrational thing she could do - half of the fault lied with him. More than half, probably. Still - _she_ was the one pregnant, _she_ was the one going through all this pain, _she_ was the one who had gotten dropped and dumped and left all alone.

It wasn't any use any more. She choked on a sob, blinked furiously in an effort to clear away her tears, and then strummed several cords in quick succession. A minor, E minor, A Major. And again. And again, pressing her fingers so hard against the steel strings that they began to hurt with the friction.

/It's all your fault./

/It's not your fault./

Whoever was to blame, Cain was gone. After saying he loved her, would do anything for her, would _die_ for her - after they had plannned a future together, planned to get married right out of high school - he was gone.

The closest she had been to him in the past week was when Winry had driven her to his apartment building. It had been a Saturday, and she knew he left to hang out with his friends for the majority of the day. Her fingers had been shaking as she unlocked it with her borrowed key, and Winry's hand on her shoulder was the only thing that kept her from breaking down then and there.

His scent - aftershave and cologne and a certain _Cain-ness_ that was unique to him - filled the apartment, and tears were running down her face as she gathered her clothes, her books and papers, her guitar. On the way back, Winry hadn't spoken at all, and she was glad.

D minor, D Major, G Major.

She had her guitar now, she had her music back, and that was worth more to her than all the clothes in her closet, all the money she had managed to save. But it wasn't worth Cain. Rose would have gladly given up _everything_ if she would have been allowed to stay with him.

The guitar rested against her stomach as she launched into the opening notes of one of her songs. It felt strange to know that there was a baby inside of her - strange and more than a little frightening. And there was no one, _no one_ to help her.

It wasn't fair.

_/It's all your fault_./

_/It isn't your fault_./

She didn't understand it. She didn't understand anything. And she hated it. She hated it. Everything.

By the time she finished her song with a slow E minor chord, tears were streaming down her face. And she couldn't do anything to stop them.

---

When the doorbell rang, Envy was sleeping. It brought him out of his half-slumber, and he turned over, kicking his thin sheet to the floor. Someone would answer the door, eventually.

It rang again and he groaned. "Dorchet... get the damn door..." As soon as he had spoken he came awake completely and blinked a few times. Right. He wasn't at home. He was at someone else's house - or rather, someone else's apartment. And it was _their_ doorbell that was ringing, and no one was going to answer it unless he did.

Reluctantly, he hauled himself up and padded to the doorway. He realized as his hand was on the knob that this might be a UPS man, or some other unimportant visitor, or maybe it was someone _very_ important that the Elrics would not want him to see.

Like... a social worker or something.

Envy didn't want to screw Al over, or anything like that, but Ed had been such an ass lately (an arrogant ass now, after their fight) that he let his vindictive streak get the better of him. He cracked open the door.

Roy Mustang was standing there wearing his customary long sleeved, white collared shirt, even though school was out and it was boiling hot outside. "Edward?" he asked, peering inside.

Startled, Envy took a step back and accidentally opened the door all the way. "What. The _hell_."

"Envy?" Roy asked incredulously at the same time Envy said, "_Mustang_?"

Without being invited in, the drama teacher stepped into the small apartment. Nervous as he always was around adults he _almost_ respected, Envy took a few steps back and glanced over at the couch in the hope that it wasn't as messy as he thought it was. No such luck.

"Envy?" Roy asked again. "Uh... what are you doing here?"

Envy glanced at Roy, looked out the door behind him (ostensibly checking to see if Ed and Al had returned), then backed up towards the kitchen. "Er, it's a long story," he said. "I don't know if it's allowed but... would you like to come in?"

"Allowed?" Mustang quirked an eyebrow. "Since when are _you_ concerned with whether or not something's _allowed_?"

Giving a nervous laugh, the long-haired teenager led the way into the kitchen. "I'm not," he said, glaring at the table when he realized he was sounding defensive. "It's just that... they're letting me stay here. So I have to behave."

Mustang frowned, took a seat at the kitchen table, and looked up at Envy, who was still standing. "They're _letting _you stay here?"

"I told you," Envy replied with an ironic grin. "Long story."

---

"Kicked out of your home, huh?" Mustang asked, leaning his chair back and folding his fingers together over his chest. Envy, amused, thought it was a gesture an old man would make. "That's pretty harsh. And then... Kimbley really did _that_ to you?"

"Uh-huh." Envy nodded. "But you're the only one I'd tell that to, so you had better keep your mouth shut." He glared half-heartedly at Roy. "Got it?"

The drama teacher chuckled. "I appreciate your trust in me, Envy," he said lazily. "And I'm not going to tell anyone. Even if I wanted to, who could I talk to? It's obvious now that your mom doesn't care."

"Yeah, well, that was obvious from the beginning."

"I don't know, Envy," Roy replied. "I'm sure nearly everyone from school would want to have a life like yours. Rich, famous mom and famous dad, living in a mansion with a _butler_, everything you want handed to you on a silver platter..."

Envy squirmed a little in his seat and turned away from Roy to look out the window. Still hot, still sunny, still Central. "Don't say it like that, Mustang. It sounds insulting."

"Insulting?" Another chuckle. "You really have changed, Envy. A month ago you would have laughed and said something about your innate superiority."

The long-haired teenager sighed and leaned his chin on the table, gazing at Roy through a curtain of dyed green hair. "Would I have?" He paused and thought a moment, but could come up with nothing more than a limp, "That's interesting."

Frowning, the drama teacher straightened and leaned forward to peer at Envy's face. "You sure you're all right? You look kind of, you know..."

"Kind of what?"

"I don't know." He shrugged. "Bedraggled? Dull? Depressed?" A pause. "...Horny?"

"Yeah, well, the best thing I've done for two and a half weeks is sleep for the entire day on that couch." He gestured towards the living room. "It's definitely not the greatest way to spend the summer."

Roy snorted. "I can imagine. Still, I'm surprised no one's called you. After all, you might not have been Mr. Personality, but you were sure Mr. Popular."

Envy blinked, sat straight and stared at Roy, then blinked again. "What the hell. Your jokes are worse than Kimbley's."

Ignoring Roy's smug, "I try," he continued. "I got a few texts from girls, but..." He fished his cell phone from the pocket of his shorts. "Take a look."

Raising an eyebrow, the teacher flipped open the phone, taking a few moments to figure out the screen and then browsing through the inbox. When he returned it, both eyebrows were raised and his expression was faintly disgusted. "I see."

"That's how much of a bastard Kimbley is. I don't see why he practically _date rapes_ me and then pretends that we're consensual fuck buddies. The only reason I keep this damn phone on is because... because..." He bit his lip and looked away.

Propping his chin up with one hand, Roy contemplated Envy's face. "Because you're hoping that your mother will call and you'll be able to go back?"

"No!" Envy snapped, and then reconsidered. "Well... yes. A little. I mean, I don't really want her to call but I keep thinking, what if she does and I have my phone off and I miss my one chance? But then, what if she does call to forgive me? I don't know if _I_ can forgive _her_ and I don't want to just go back like it was nothing and I'm totally okay with her abandoning me! But..." His next words were whispered. "I want to go back, a little."

Roy, eyes wide, said nothing, until Envy blushed and shook his head violently. "Shut up! I know I sound like an idiot, okay? Leave me alone." He hunched his shoulders defensively.

His outburst broke the silence, and Mustang shook his head. "Look, it's fine. I'm just glad you're admitting how you feel instead of keeping it all inside. Now that you know what you want, you'll be able to figure out what to do if she _does_ call. And you'll be able to plan where you'll go if she doesn't."

Envy's blush didn't fade. "Stop being all mature," he muttered. "I told you so you could sympathize with me, not so you could be all mature and offer 'adult solutions'." He _hmph_-ed and glanced away. "You're lucky I trust you."

"And I'm flattered by your trust."

There was another short silence, and Envy fidgeted until he had to ask, "So, really, what _are_ you doing here?"

Mustang laughed. "You mean, why did I come calling to one of my student's houses in the middle of summer for no apparent reason?"

A nod. "Duh."

The teacher shrugged. "I suppose you could say I'm a family friend, more or less. The Elric family is something like... the friends of a friend. And that friend requested that I make a visit to check on the boys, since I already know Ed." He smirked. "To tell the truth, I'm almost glad that the brothers weren't around today. I'm definitely not Edward's favorite person, that's for sure."

"That makes absolutely no sense," Envy muttered. He looked at Mustang, then averted his eyes. "I'm glad you came, though. It's hard living with nothing but blatant hostility, twenty-four/seven, even if Al _does_ try his best."

"So Edward's still angry with you? You told me that you two had a fight; I was under the impression that it had been some kind of a catharsis. You know, after the big fight, archenemies become best friends."

Envy snorted. "Maybe on television. Now things are just really awkward. He's all aloof and stupid and he ignores me. But he still hates me, I think." He rolled his eyes. "Not that _I_ care if he's being an arrogant, ignorant prick. It's just kinda annoying."

"Well," Mustang smiled innocently, "it's a good experience for you."

"What?" Envy asked, his voice flat.

"Being on the receiving end of that kind of treatment." His smile widened and turned into a devilish smirk. "After all, you've given it long enough."

Envy stood and slammed both hands on the table. "Mustang, you _bastard_! You were waiting to say that the _whole_ time! Asshole!"

The drama teacher raised an eyebrow, still smirking. "And if I was?" he asked nonchalantly. "Regardless, Envy, I had better get going now. No offense to you, or anything, but you're not girly enough that I can miss a hot date for you."

"Good!" Envy said, shoving towards the door. "Get out of here!"

Roy paused on the doorstep, to get out his wallet and hand Envy a business card. His eyes were earnest when they met Envy's. "Look, if you need any help just call my cell phone." He scribbled the number on the back of the square of paper and handed it to Envy. "And," he said, as he was standing at the top of the stairs and preparing to leave for good, "if it's any consolation, you're one of my favorite students because _you _can act, not because your mother can."

As the womanizing drama instructor disappeared down the stairs, Envy smiled despite himself - a small, genuinely happy smile, the type of smile he hadn't worn in _years_. So maybe he had _one_ real friend.

It was a start, if nothing else. A good start.

---

"_Forever and Always_" by Taylor Swift

_Sorry if the song doesn't really fit. At the moment, I'm on my brother's laptop and I don't have access to any of my music. This is what I was planning to title the chapter with, and the only song that kinda-sorta-maybe could work.  
Anyway, today marks the end of my challenge with _Potions for Foxes_ and... I dunno who wins but at least I updated, right? Sorry I didn't reply to many reviews last chapter; I appreciate them. And sorry about the random Rose section. But I really like her, a lot... and I needed to stick it in somewhere. Heh.  
Reviews & con crit appreciated as always._


	12. Chapter 12

_rack 'em up, rack 'em up! i wasn't expecting to post so soon, but if i didn't i knew some repercussions would follow. you would turn against me; cast me out... like a leper! (note to self: stop using obscure quotes from _The Dark Knight_; no one is going to get it.)_

**Chapter 12**  
_summer shudder_

"_She's not talking!_"Winry said, her voice choked with something close to panic and too loud to be comfortable, especially over the phone. "_All she does is sit there, and stare, and when we ask her something she'll nod or shake her head or say one word but she's not _talking_!_"

Holding the phone slightly away from his ear and wondering why Winry always felt the need to shout and damage his eardrums, Ed tried to understand what she was saying through her near hysteria. "Look, Winry, calm down. _Please_. I have absolutely _no_ idea what you're talking about."

There was a sigh, transmitted through the phone as a rush of static. "_Okay, okay_," the girl said, taking a deep breath. "_It's Rose_."

Ed rolled his eyes. Of course it was Rose. With Winry now, it was _always_ Rose. "And what's she doing?"

"_Nothing_!" Winry's shout was almost a screech with the bad reception, and once again, Ed found himself holding the phone at arm's length. He shifted on his bed, bringing up his feet so he was sitting cross-legged. This chat definitely had the potential to turn into an hour-long conversation.

"What do you mean?" he asked dully.

"_I mean nothing_!" was the enigmatic reply. "_I told you already, Ed. She just sits there. And stares. Sometimes she goes into the guest room and locks her door, and I know she's playing her guitar. But when she comes out, she doesn't look any different. And she's not talking_."

"Really?" Ed questioned, much more interested now that Winry seemed to have calmed down. "Why?"

"_I don't know why, Ed_!" she snapped, and then took a breath. "_Sorry. I'm- It's a little hard for me to keep my cool, at the moment_." Ed imagined her closing her eyes and swiping a hand across her forehead, her blonde bangs fluttering with the movement. She would be wearing a spaghetti-strap top, probably, and the really short shorts that she liked to don when she wanted to show off her early summer tan. "_Granny says she's probably depressed. And she has good reason to be! But... I wish she would just talk to me. I'm getting really worried_."

It was Edward's turn to sigh, out of sympathy. Winry sounded like she was really going through the wringer, emotionally. "Have you tried talking to her?"

"_Yeah. Me and Granny both have._" A pause, and a slight rustle. Maybe she had flopped down onto her back. "_She nods or shakes her head, and when she has to she'll give us a one word answer, but that's _all_. She refuses to say anything else_."

Not sure how to respond, Ed settled with a noncommittal, "Mm-hmm."

"_It's so oppressive_," Winry admitted. "_I'm sitting in the backyard because when I go in to the kitchen, all she does is stare. Away from me. She doesn't even look at me. I wish -_" She cut herself off. "_Never mind_."

If he wanted to, Ed could have easily finished her sentence - _I want her to look at me, I want her to acknowledge me, I want her to get over Cain and realize that she's more important to me than she ever was to him_. Something like that. But they had been best friends for long enough that he let her silences speak for themselves. "You know, she was really in love with him. It takes a while to get over something like that."

"_Like you would know_!"

Edward tried to ignore the anger behind Winry's quick reply. "And you know any better than I do?"

Winry's response was both quick and unexpected, and choked with tears. "_At least- at least I _love_ someone. You've never really felt like that for someone else, have you? You either judge them too quickly and drive them away, or let them be your friends and never get close to you. I-I think the only reason you let me in is because we're practically like brother and sister_."

Ed blinked, shocked. "What?" He shook his head. "Look, Winry, you sound awful. I'm going to come over there as quick as I can, and see what I can do. Al will come too, okay?"

If she replied with anything, he didn't hear it. Maybe, he thought, she nodded, and wiped her eyes.

"I'll be right over, okay? Bye."

He snapped his cell phone shut with a decisive click and stood, ducking his head so as not to bang it against the top bunk with the thoughtlessness born of habit. Some small, traitorous part of him wished that Winry had never brought Rose home - the brunette seemed to be tearing her apart, emotionally, and that wasn't good. Another smaller part of him wished that Winry could be attracted to the opposite sex, because maybe then he would have someone decent for a girlfriend. They could make their relationship work out.

Then again, she _had_ been his girlfriend since seventh grade, in name if not in deed, and that had been... an interesting experience, to say the least. Not necessarily one he would like to repeat - Winry was more comfortable as a friend.

And, also, there was the wrench. Having Winry as a girlfriend would mean spending more time with her, which would mean getting more opportunities to accidentally make her mad, which meant more chances for the almost-concussions he seemed to receive whenever she was in a bad mood.

Hastily squashing both almost-wishes, he snuck into the kitchen and ducked into the bathroom to check his hair, then, hair band held in his teeth, he stepped into the living room.

"Al, gotta go," he said around the tie, his fingers still working to make a quick French braid. "We need to get to Winry's."

Alphonse was sitting on the rug with Envy, who looked up dully and asked, "Is that your girlfriend?"

"No," Ed replied curtly, refusing the impulse to glare at the long-haired teenager. He had promised Izumi he would be nice. He was going to keep that promise. "We broke up. Al, come on, it's..." He paused, not sure how much he wanted to tell Envy, let alone how much he wanted to tell Al. Neither were aware of Winry's entire depth of feeling for Rose, although Ed had a sneaking suspicion that his younger brother would be finding out sometime this summer. "It's kinda urgent."

The younger boy stood and stretched, offering a hand to Envy, who shook his head and remained seated on the floor. "So you two are leaving?" he asked, focusing his eyes on some neutral middle distance so that either Elric could answer.

"I guess so," Alphonse replied, glancing at Ed for confirmation. "Um... sorry, Envy."

"Whatever," the long-haired teenager replied. "I guess I'll just have to start playing solitaire." There were playing cards scattered across the rug, Ed noticed for the first time. "I guess." He began gathering them up as Ed hurried back to the kitchen to grab his car keys and then to the living room, to grab Al.

"Hey," Envy said distractedly when he was almost out the door.

Ed turned, violently repressing the urge to sigh loudly and roll his eyes. "What?" he asked, keeping his voice even only with major effort of will.

"Um..." The teenager hesitated, probably because he wasn't used to asking for things. Ed tightened his grip on the doorframe and waited impatiently. "Do I have your permission to like, leave the house?" He said the words in a disdainful manner that made it clear he was only asking for courtesy's sake.

"Of course," Ed said in a saccharine tone that made his own contempt clear. "Leave before us and I'll be locking the door behind you." He smiled. "Don't expect me to give you the house key, either."

Envy finished stacking the cards and stood, looking around absently before grabbing his cell phone off the table. "Al has my number," he told Ed before waltzing out the door and sauntering down to the dingy driveway. He was wearing the a ridiculous outfit of a purple tank top and really short and really girly black shorts - the kind that exposed his skinny, pale legs up to mid-thigh and made Ed nearly a hundred percent certain that the teenager shaved his legs. And used lotion, too.

(Not that there was anything wrong with lotion, Ed used that too, but... _shaving_? Honestly.)

"Come on, brother," Al said, grabbing his elbow. "You're blocking the doorway."

Ed shook his head and stepped forward. Envy, hands in his absurdly small pockets, watched them hurry down the stairs and get into the car. "I'll probably be waiting when you come back," he said dryly as the blonde started the car. "But don't hurry on my account."

As he reversed the car and backed out of the apartment lot, Ed glared at the mute steering wheel and did his best to ignore Al's look of silent disapproval.

---

Eventually, Envy found his way to an ice cream shop. It was sweltering outside, and the humidity and towering clouds rapidly amassing along the horizon reminded Envy that this was summer in Central, not in one of his family's usual exotic vacationing spots, and sudden afternoon downpours were normal. Sighing, he stepped inside the building, feeling his shoulders prickle as the cool breeze collided with slightly sweaty skin.

This was his first taste of freedom in _weeks_ and he relished it with a zest that was slightly surprising. He had thought he would _die_, being cooped up in the Elrics' apartment for at least three weeks, alone half the time and the other half having to be on his best behavior so he wouldn't get kicked out. When he had woken up this morning, his first thought had been something like /If I don't get out and stretch my legs today, I'm going to _die_./

And it wasn't really exaggeration. He needed some respite from the endless sweltering days spent in front of the television or playing cards with Al, drinking endless glasses of orange juice, or just lying lethargically on the couch. He had gotten more sleep this summer than he had in his whole _life_, really, and it was beginning to get disgusting in his mind. It wasn't like he could keep a body like this without work, and if things kept going the way they were headed, he was going to gain twenty pounds over the summer and come back to school fat and overweight and _ugly_.

Regardless of the satisfaction he would get from his mother's scandalized face, being anything less than flawless was unacceptable.

...Which, now that Envy thought of it, made it kind of stupid that he had walked all across Central and was planning to blow it all by getting an ice cream. He did have a pretty fast metabolism, though, and there was always the walk back to contend with. So the expense was justified, in terms of both calories and cost - he still had Greed's credit card, after all.

The lovely air conditioned atmosphere of the ice cream shop cooled him off so much that he was slightly chilled by the time he got to the counter. The girl serving the ice cream was dark-haired and slim, with chocolate brown eyes and a lip ring that hadn't been a great decision but didn't look half bad on her, really. Her eye caught Envy's and she blushed.

He smirked. "Uh, I'd like a small bowl of..." He glanced over the selection of ice creams once more. "Plain chocolate ice cream. With..." He stood on tiptoes and craned his neck to peer at the toppings. "Raspberries, raspberry sauce, and... a little bit of chopped pecans." When the girl just stood there, staring, his smirk widened. "That's it," he told her.

"Oh, right!" she said quickly, grabbing a spoon and a clear plastic bowl and filling his order. Envy grew more and more pleased with himself as she glanced up repeatedly while scooping the ice cream and adding the raspberries.

"Don't forget the nuts," he told her, leaning forward near the cash register and looking up at her through lowered eyelashes. He had learned most of his flirting techniques from the girls he had known (in the biblical sense, he thought, stifling a laugh), but for some reason they fell for them over and over again when used by a guy. Or maybe every girl was a lesbian at heart.

Kimbley had once told him, "Any girl that's banging _you_ is definitely a lesbian." Then, Envy had shrugged and laughed. But now, thinking of Kimbley soured his mood and he began tapping his fingers impatiently against the marble counter.

Finally, his ice cream was placed in front of him. He handed the girl his credit card, watching as her eyebrows raised slightly, impressed. As she handed him the receipt and returned the credit card, their hands brushed and she looked up at him meaningfully, dark eyes boring into his own. "My shift ends in ten minutes."

Envy, pocketing the credit card and taking his dessert, smirked. "I'll be waiting outside."

---

Winry was waiting for them outside her house, sitting on the steps next to Den. The black and white mutt panted softly and leaned all her weight against Winry, who was staring straight ahead at nothing. /Like she said Rose was doing,/ Ed thought, turning off the car and stepping outside. Al, looking curious and more than a little worried, followed.

"Hey," he said awkwardly as he came up to the steps. "We're, uh, here."

"I noticed," she replied, smiling up at him and Al. "Nice to see you, Al. I was expecting Ed, but not you."

Alphonse smiled at her. "Hey, Winry," he said. "It's nice to see you too. All Ed told me was that you needed out help..." His voice trailed off. "Um, what's the matter?"

Winry's lips tightened. "There's a girl in the kitchen, her name is Rose," she explained curtly. "She goes to school with me and Ed. She's pregnant, her boyfriend dumped her, and now she refuses to talk." Glancing away and putting an arm around Den's shoulders, she sighed. "She's... really in a lot of pain. And... I'm glad you're here. You're good at dealing with that kind of stuff." Looking back up at him, Winry finally smiled. "Would you mind going in to talk with her?" 

Eyes wide, Al nodded hastily. "O-of course, Winry!" he said, dodging past her and the dog to get to the front door. "I'll do my best."

Ed, feeling ignored, took a step forward to follow. He stopped when Winry grabbed his wrist and yanked him back. "You're not much of a people person," she told him flatly. "You would probably just make it worse."

Offended, Ed plopped down on the seat next to her. "What's that supposed to mean?" he asked, glaring at her and the dog. "You're not a 'people person' either; what the hell makes you allowed to go talk to Rose and tell me I should stay on the porch?"

"If you hadn't noticed, I'm staying out on the porch, too," Winry observed, her appeasing tone belied by her next statement. "And anyway, I'm more of a people person than you are. I _like_ making friends and getting to know people. You seem intent on driving people away before you even give them a chance."

"I do not!" Ed replied defensively. This was almost exactly what Winry had told him over the phone, but he had written that off as her own stress. Now it seemed that she was really seeing this as an issue, and it was beginning to annoy him. "I have plenty of friends!"

"What?" Winry's tone was sardonic. "'Plenty'? If by plenty you mean _two_, then you're right. Rayes puts up with you because you're _entertaining_, and Ling puts up with you because you don't demand anything but someone to listen to all your crazy rants!"

"I have other friends!" Ed snapped, refusing to admit how close she was to the truth. "Like you! And Russell!" He paused and made a face. "Sorta." He had been trying not to think of the elder Tringham.

Winry sighed and rolled her eyes. "That's a given. And you have adult friends too, like Miss Izumi and maybe the Hughes family. But that's it, Ed. There are so many wonderful people out there that you could get to know, but you judge them and reject them before you even give them a chance. It's stupid and immature, Ed, and past time that you grew out of it!"

"I didn't judge Russell!" Ed argued. "And you know how much there is about... _him_ to judge!"

"You didn't because his little brother is one of your little brother's best friends, and you don't want to hurt Al's feelings. And look! You ended up making friends with him, despite everything. And no matter what you say about him, you have to admit he's a good friend."

Edward looked away. "Maybe," he conceded grudgingly.

"So you admit it."

"I was just admitting it for Russell! He's a special case." Another pause. "Special in a _lot _of ways."

Exasperated, Winry sighed again. "That's not my point, Ed. Just listen to me, okay? I don't have my wrench with me right now but I can always go get it from the garage." She gave him a threatening look.

"All right, all right," Ed said, holding up his hands in a placating gesture. "Tell me, then. I'll shut up and listen."

Winry shot him a triumphant look, and Ed wished she would just get to the point already. What was it, Pick on Ed week? First Izumi, and now Winry - it was as if he was getting nothing but an endless round of criticisms from all sides. And, okay, _maybe_ there was a grain of truth to them. _Maybe_ he was a little too hasty to judge people, _maybe_ he needed to start being more accepting. But his mom had accepted his dad, no matter what, and look where that had gotten her. In a hospital bed at the vegetable ward.

And look where that had gotten the whole family.

"Ed, look," Winry said finally, leaning forward and gazing at him earnestly with her limpid blue eyes. "I think you know what this is about."

He said nothing.

"I know you think that taking Envy into your house is a big enough sacrifice on your part, and I also know that you've told be you've stopped being angry with him - another sacrifice. But all you're really doing is lending him your couch and trying not to pick any more fights." Ed was tempted to speak, but he clamped his mouth shut to listen.

"I shouldn't have to tell you this, Ed," Winry continued. "I'm not your mother. But right now, she's not here, and I am. And no one else is going to tell you. Envy is a person too, regardless of how much money his parents have or how bad his attitude is. Why don't you try treating him like one. Like someone who's worthy of your attention. Maybe not your _respect_, but... Just give him a chance, okay? It's what your mother would have wanted."

Ed was unable to stay quiet any longer. "How do you know what my mother would have wanted?" he asked, glaring at her. "Don't talk about her like she's _dead_! She's not!"

"I know she's not dead," Winry said, keeping her calm. "But she's not here to talk to you right now, is she? And the only reason that _I'm_ the one telling you something like this is because you're too chicken to admit it to yourself." She stood, and Den stood with her. "Think about it, Ed."

As Winry disappeared into the house, Ed slumped. He would think about it. Now that Trisha, and Trisha's wishes, had somehow become involved, he had no choice.

The clouds were getting heavier. It was probably going to rain.

---

The humidity in the air seemed to be increasing steadily, and it made Envy even more contented with his ice cream. He licked the spoon, savoring the tart and sweet raspberry flavor, before glancing inside. The girl wasn't at the counter any more; she was probably gathering her things and coming outside. To him.

As if to prove his suspicions, she came sauntering around the back way before he could take another spoonful of ice cream. Her mouth was smiling - her eyes weren't. "Hey," she said, taking a seat. She was wearing a tank top and shorts - an outfit absurdly similar to Envy's. "I'm Viola. What's your name."

Suddenly cynical, Envy raised an eyebrow. "Does it matter?"

She paused, as if thinking. She probably wasn't. "No," Viola said finally. "It really doesn't."

For some reason, Envy didn't feel like giving her his name. He was afraid she would recognize it - he really didn't want to be associated with any member of his family right now. And also, the events of the past month or so had jarred him so much that he wanted to see if he could stand and fall alone. He had been using his fame as a crutch before; now he wanted to find out if things were any different without it. To be honest, he was tired of being a spoiled rich brat.

(There was his conscience again, sounding suspiciously like Ed.)

"So..." Viola began when the silence had started to grow awkward. She tapped her fingers on the warm cement of the outdoor table. "Where are we gonna go?"

"Nowhere," Envy replied, "until I finish this ice cream." He took another spoonful, eating it slowly and watching her reaction, before holding out the bowl. "Wanna bite?"

Although she looked tempted, Viola shook her head. "No. Do you know how many calories that has?"

Envy shrugged. "It's good stuff." He had heard somewhere that sex burnt more calories than a half hour of exercise. Something like that. Maybe more calories than running a mile. For some reason, that tidbit made him think of Kimbley.

He took another bite. Oh yeah. It was Kimbley who had told him.

"So where do you live?" he asked her abruptly.

His own words were echoed back to him in a conscious parody. "Does it matter?"

Now they were on familiar turf. "Not really," Envy replied, smirking. "But I thought you wanted this." He smoothed a hand over his flat chest. "It helps to have somewhere to go."

She followed his fingers, mesmerized. "It doesn't matter where I live," she repeated slowly, then raised her gaze so she could look at Envy's face through her lashes. "There's always my car."

Envy took a slow bite of ice cream. "Mm, I don't know. Only if your backseat is clean." Kimbley's backseat hadn't been clean, he remembered suddenly. They had stumbled out of the club - he was supporting Envy with one arm; the guy hadn't been as drunk as he looked.

"Why are you being so picky?" Viola asked, eyes holding his own. "But I thought you wanted this." It was her turn to trail a hand down her not-so-flat chest, Envy's gaze following it all the way. "Don't you?" Dark hair had fallen over one eye.

When Envy's back hit the worn-out cushions, Kimbley's ponytail was already loosened, and the dark strands were hanging over his eyes and tickling Envy's face. He had laughed, his breath smelling like alcohol, and Envy had echoed that laughter, wondering why he was staring up into sulfurous yellow eyes, wondering why he was letting the seatbelt buckles dig uncomfortably into his back. Wondering why Kimbley was leaning down so close to him and why he was levering himself up to capture his lips -

Abruptly, Envy stood, the backs of his knees banging painfully against the stone bench. Viola looked up, appearing to be relieved. "Are we finally leaving now?"

Envy looked at her, saw Kimbley's face and voice and eerie smile. "_I'm_ leaving now," he said, stepping over the bench and turning away, the way he had came, praying he remembered the way back.

He had left his ice cream on the table. It was starting to rain.

---

Edward trudged up the stairs to his apartment building. It had started to rain before he left Winry's house, and the shower had quickly turned into a torrential downpour. He supposed it was a good thing - there had been a bit of a drought lately. But he really wished the rain would have waited until he was off the road and safe and dry in his room.

It hadn't helped that Fletcher had suddenly invited Al for dinner, and Ed had been forced to drive an extra mile out of his way to the Tringham house. Luckily, Russell was at some kind of summer camp - Ed had wondered with amusement if it was the same camp Rayes was attending.

Seeing those two together - Ed still wasn't sure whether his reigning impulse was to run in fear, or watch and laugh his head off. Maybe it was a bit of both.

He walked up the stairs carefully, keeping his head down to watch himself place his feet carefully on the slippery wrought iron steps. The rain was pouring down like buckets; the streets were already nearly flooded with water and he found himself thinking, /This had _better_ be one of those five minute thunderstorms, because if it lasts any longer the roof is gonna start leaking./

When he got to the top of the steps and looked up, he stopped.

Envy was sitting on the doorstep, dripping hair hanging over his face, making no effort to stay out of the downpour. His pale skin glistened with the rain and his purple tank top was absolutely soaked - from the way his head was resting against the door, it looked like he was sleeping.

But when Ed got over his mild surprise and walked forward to open the door, Envy blinked and looked up. His purple eyes were vague and unfocused, and a raindrop hung from one of his lashes. He blinked and it slid down his cheek, like a tear.

Ed bit his lip, his indignation warring with a creeping feeling of guilt, and shame. Why had Envy come home in the middle of a rainstorm? part of him wanted to know. Why didn't he just find some nice, dry restaurant to wait it out? But another side reminded Edward that it was _his_ fault Envy was soaking wet and miserable, his fault for not trusting Envy with the house key. He had no idea how long the teenager had been sitting there, but he looked about drowned.

With shaking fingers (the rain had thoroughly drenched him and he was shivering from the cold), Ed managed to open the lock and step inside, slipping his sandals off at the doorway. He hurried down the hall to the bathroom, acutely conscious of his dripping footsteps, and rummaged in the cupboards for a towel. Through the noise of the downpour, he heard the front door shut.

_Treat him like a person_, Winry's voice reminded him. And then, he heard his mother - _just give Envy a chance. He might surprise you_.

Sighing, he draped his towel over his arm and grabbed another one, bringing it down the hall to hand to a stunned looking Envy who was standing silently on the doormat.

Envy took it slowly, with a surprised look at Ed. "Thanks..." he said hesitantly, after a while.

Ed let out a breath, firmly squashed _all_ of his resentment, met Envy's dull violet eyes, and replied, "You're welcome."

"Summer Shudder" by _AFI_.  
_Ha, bet you thought I wouldn't get another chapter up so soon. But like I said in my author's note above (-points up-), Rack 'em up, rack 'em up! Ahahaha. Anyway. This chapter's pretty cute, for all that it was written in two days and I was distracted during the latter half by making a Loveless AMV. I love that anime. And the manga, too. So pretty.  
Reviews & con crit as per usual, honeycakes._


	13. Chapter 13

_yes i update late. yes i am a jerk. yes i deserve to be drawn and quartered, and if i were a guy maybe i should be castrated too. but moving on... any other questions before we begin? but really, i apologize. this is one of the chapter ideas i've had in my head from the inception of this fic. it just took me... two years to put it on paper. yeah, i suck. anyway, here it is._

**Chapter 13**  
_five minutes to midnight_

Envy lay on his back and stared at the ceiling, which was faintly visible in the dim, bluish glow from the streetlamp outside. The couch was hot and scratchy on his exposed skin, the rough fabric trapping his body heat and sending it back. He had already thrown the blanket to the ground, and was contemplating tossing his pillows as well. Anything to make it a little bit cooler, to increase the chance of catching just one breeze... Even though the window was open a few inches, the air outside was flat and dead.

He turned over on the cushions, sticky and uncomfortable and wishing for air conditioning or, in lieu of that, a fan. Even one of those Asian paper fans. Even a piece of paper he could wave back and forth in an effort to dispel the clinging heat - but he was lazy, and not yet desperate enough to get up and go get one. And if he did walk around, he would be even less likely to get to sleep.

His legs felt restless, no matter how many times he stretched them out. Strands of hair clung to the side of his face, and when he brushed them from his eyes they fell limply to the pillow. No matter how many different ways he shifted, he was unable to get comfortable at all. And that litany of complaints didn't even begin to cover the anxious and irritable thoughts running through his head - worries about Kimbley, his parents, the Elrics, exercise, horniness, et cetera.

Life, in short, _sucked_.

Giving a sigh, Envy turned so he was on his back once again, watching the ceiling with half-lidded eyes. The clock on the VCR told him it was only eleven forty-five. Eight hours until morning. Eight _fucking_ hours.

He was startled from his bitter contemplations by the creaking of a door. Barely moving his head, Envy peered down the hallway. Al, getting up for a drink? Ed, getting up for a midnight snack? A bathroom run? An illicit phone call?

Footsteps padded across the carpet and Envy saw a silhouette cross the living room. When the figure passed the window, the streetlight illuminated a flash of long golden blonde hair - Ed, then? Curious, the long-haired teenager levered himself up on an elbow as Ed passed and quietly unlocked the front door.

"Where are you going?"

Edward jumped, visibly startled, and Envy was amused as well as curious. "None of your business," he replied defensively, opening the outside screen door. "Stay here."

Envy, already irritable from the heat and itching for an excuse to get up and cool off, stood. "Make me," he replied, stretching. Even the stuffy air felt good moving across his sticky skin.

Although he couldn't see Ed's face, the teenager paused, and Envy assumed he was staring. Glaring, probably. "Fine," Edward said after a long pause, where Envy fanned himself with his hand and looked around. The VCR said eleven forty-seven, now. "You can come with me."

Envy's eyes widened with surprise, but he stepped through the now-open door, giving Ed a wary look when the blonde held it open. "Where are you going?" he asked, stepping aside so he could follow Ed down the stairs.

Ed jerked his chin at his car, parked under one of the awnings provided by the apartment complex.

"Driving?" Envy asked, climbing the stairs gingerly and only now aware of his bare feet. He was still in his pajamas, too, and that realization came with a rush of vulnerability. But Ed was in his boxers and an old t-shirt, so they couldn't be - "Where are we going?"

"Away," Ed replied, walking across the parking lot in giant strides. He was wearing flip-flops, Envy noted with a little bitterness. _So_ not fair.

The long-haired teenager walked to the car with tentative footsteps, praying he wouldn't step on a goathead or a rusty nail or something equally unpleasant. When he reached the passenger side of Ed's car, he breathed a sigh of relief and brushed loose gravel from the bottoms of his feet. "Away where?" Ed was unlocking the door. "Hey, what about Al?"

"He's fine," Ed said. "I locked the door behind you."

Envy gave him a skeptical look but opened the car door nonetheless. "If you say so," he muttered, climbing into the vehicle. Ed's car really was a piece of crap, he reflected. A generic tan color on both the interior and the exterior, it gave of the odor of gas, sunscreen, and sweet pea scented lotion. He raised an eyebrow and cranked down a window - the car even had the rotating hand cranks to move windows up or down. The body sagged, the wheels were worn, and the outside was covered with dents.

Except for the color and the model (and the smell), Ed's vehicle could have been a twin of Kimbley's. Envy tightened his hand on the armrest as Ed climbed into the driver's seat. This wasn't going to end up like that time, he told himself. The car was well-worn in a _nice_ way, and Ed's eyes were a warmer gold color than Kimbley's. He leaned his head against the doorframe and watched the scenery with half-closed eyes as Ed backed out of his parking space, tires crunching on gravel, then maneuvered onto the street.

The city lights sped past them as Ed turned onto the main road through Central, passing gas stations and restaurants, theaters and ratty old motels. The night was illuminated by neon signs and the sodium-orange of streetlamps, and Envy leaned his head against the cool glass of the window and watched it speed past. He had always liked driving at night, he recalled, with the glow of passing streetlights a series of orange flickers and his reflection ghostly pale and barely there. It was soothing, sleepy. The slow movement of the car lulled him into a trancelike state near sleep.

It had been just like this when Kimbley had -

But he wasn't going to think about that. /Ed isn't Kimbley,/ Envy thought to himself, taking a deep breath and letting it out. /He's an asshole, but he's _not _Kimbley./ And for once, he believed himself.

---

Envy came awake fully when the lights began to be spaced further and further apart, and the city limits receded behind him. He sat up slightly and shook his head, running his fingers through long, dark hair. Ed showed no sign of stopping. From what Envy could see in the light from the occasional streetlamps, he was still sitting straight, with the same expression he had worn before - blank, silent, closed in.

The long-haired teenager watched him for a moment, as Ed watched the road. The radio had been turned on sometime during his sleep, and now provided a constant background of music and chatter. It was turned down low, too low for him to be able to make out the actual words, but loud enough that it broke up the silence of the car. He looked at the dashboard clock, surprised the hunk of junk car even had one. Twelve fifteen. They had been driving for nearly half an hour, which was rather a lot for a nighttime outing.

"Where are we going?" Envy asked finally, when Ed showed no sign of acknowledging his gaze. "We're outside the city; aren't we going back?"

There was no reply, though Envy noticed a slight inclination of Ed's head, just enough of a nod to acknowledge Envy's question. An actual _answer_ would have been nice. People didn't ask things to get _nodded_ at.

Envy sighed, wondering where his accepting mood had gone. He had gotten into the car himself, so wherever Ed felt like going, he had to come along. That or walk God knew how many miles to get back to an apartment building - and he wasn't sure exactly where said apartment was located, come to think of it. Somewhere in Central, somewhere sort of near Kimbley's place but not too close - and he didn't even know where Kimbley's house was.

Well, good riddance. He sighed again and leaned his head back against the window. The road was narrowing and they seemed to be climbing into the mountains, part of the range that spread out east from Central. Parts of the area had a rather unsavory reputation, and Envy began to wonder what Ed was doing driving all the way out here in the middle of the night. Perhaps he was a serial killer, and Envy was going to be his latest victim. A drug deal, and he was going to give them Envy to pay some kind of debt. A secret Nazi society initiation.

He almost snorted to himself, watching his pale reflection smile lazily. Yeah right. Ed was too straight and narrow to get into any kind of shit like that.

Though he would have never believed something like that from Kimbley; never believed he would -

That didn't matter, though. Ed _wasn't _Kimbley, and Envy had told himself and _believed_ that Ed wasn't Kimbley, and if he kept bringing up Kimbley whenever possible he would never be able to get away, and it wasn't like what Kimbley had done was a _big deal_ in the scheme of things, and Envy had probably done worse than Kimbley had ever done -

He was shaken out of his totally new, self-recriminating thoughts by a sudden swerve. Envy jolted upright, taut as a wire, before realizing that Ed had just pulled into a parking lot on the side of the highway, one of those placed by the forest service for intrepid hikers. Curious, he peered over the railing, where the side of the mountain fell away abruptly, the bottom barely visible in the faint moonlight. An observation spot, then, a proverbial dead end.

Ed opened the door and clambered from his seat, his flip flops crunching on the gravel in the lot. /Suicide,/ Envy thought to himself before squelching his suspicion. Curious - sometimes he grew tired of his own nosy nature - Envy stood as well, wincing as his bare feet contacted gravel that was substantially rougher than the rocks that had coated the apartment lot. He wondered whether there was any broken glass in the vicinity, and if Ed would take him to urgent care to get a tetanus shot if he happened to step on a rusty nail.

Probably, he thought of the former, and probably not, of the latter. Ah well, feet were made for walking and whatnot...

Gingerly, probing with his toes at every step, he joined Ed at the small metal barrier that was all that separated them from at least a hundred feet of empty air. "If you're planning to throw yourself off," Envy said, "Al would be pretty pissed if I didn't at least try to stop you."

"If I wanted to throw myself off," Ed replied, giving Envy an exasperated look over his shoulder, "why would I have taken you along for the ride?"

Envy shrugged, finally walking the last few feet and coming to stand at the metal barrier. He could see the silhouette of the mountain behind him to his left, rising up like a behemoth and cutting off the faint light of the sky, but in front of him was empty - stars and what he could see of the horizon. Even though he was fine with heights, such a view was a little unnerving. "A desperate plea for help, maybe," he retorted, deciding that bantering was more comfortable than contemplating the dark void below him. "I bet you just needed someone to drive the car home."

Ed snorted, then looked away, his attention apparently reserved for the invisible vista before them. "When the sun is up, the view is amazing," he said after a while, causing the long-haired teenager to fidget a little. /If it's so pretty,/ he wondered, /why didn't you just drive all the way out here tomorrow?/ "The stars are pretty too," he continued, answering Envy's unspoken question. Envy looked up...

... and it took him at least a minute to catch his breath.

The stars were spread out above him like a living tapestry of lights. A blanket of diamonds. A horde of fireflies. He grasped at a less poetic description, but it evaded him - hell, there was no way you could describe a view like that in a way that was anything but poetic. They sprawled across the sky, glowing, and there were more of them than Envy had ever seen before. He could even point out the Milky Way, previously an abstract concept from his seventh grade earth science class. It unfurled like a reddish purple banner, swarmed by thickly congregating stars. All those pictures he had seen, from textbooks and movies and TV shows - they hadn't been lying.

"The lights from the city wash them out," Ed explained, but Envy was too enthralled to reply. "We're lucky the moon isn't full. If it was gone altogether, you'd see even more."

The long-haired teenager was beginning to get a crick in his neck from staring at the sky, but the sight was too big to drink in in a matter of seconds. He made a noise of affirmation, and they were silent for several more minutes, Envy looking around like a hick in New York City for the first time, and Ed staring at the stars with what appeared to be a contemplative expression.

"My mother's in a coma in the hospital," Edward blurted suddenly.

Envy blinked and twisted his head back around to stare at Ed. There was no way anyone could get away with ignoring that sort of comment. "...Oh really?" he asked after a moment, lacking anything better to say.

Ed was still staring up at the stars. His face was in profile against the magenta hues of the Milky Way, his golden braid catching the faint moon and starlight and turning silver, just like his eyes. Eventually, Envy settled for staring at the column of his throat, which moved up and down as he swallowed, and wondered whether he would speak again.

It took him a few minutes, but eventually... "She had a brain hemhorrage nearly a year ago. Actually, it would be a year ago this July." He paused, and sighed, still staring upwards and not meeting Envy's curious eyes. "One minute, she was standing at the kitchen counter, complaining she had a headache. She got headaches a lot. And then she was on the floor. We called the amublance and they did their best, but..." He shrugged, and Envy saw the corner of his mouth twist into a shadowed, lopsided grin. "Al started high school without her to drive him on his first day."

Al went to a private high school, Envy remembered. St. Charles, the only high school in the city to which Dante had not entrusted him - because the school's name was also the name of a saint. "I'm... sorry," he hazarded, having no idea what to say and knowing he had to say something.

"Don't be," Ed said. He finally took his eyes off the vista above him and turned to meet Envy's gaze with his own, resigned one. "It just... makes things hard, you know?"

Envy didn't, but he nodded anyway.

"We go to visit her every Thursday - I mean, I do; sometimes Al has studying or homework and that's really important, but..." His voice trailed off once more and he scrubbed at his face with the heel of his palm, rubbing his eyes and tossing his hair out of his face. "This is a nice place to go to, um, chill out."

"...I'm sorry," Envy said again, after a moment. Even if Ed didn't want apologies, it seemed the most logical thing to say. An impulse to make a confession of his own - _I was raped by my best friend_ - surfaced, and Envy had to bite his tongue to keep from blurting it out. Edward didn't need to know. _No one_ needed to know (/Roy knows,/ a voice whispered in the back of his head, but Roy was different), and he didn't need anyone's pity. He didn't need anyone's understanding, either.

"Yeah," Ed sighed after a while, when it became obvious that Envy had nothing more to add. Another faint silence drifted between them like regret, until the blonde turned to reenter the car. Envy followed, stepping carefully as usual across the gravel. When he entered the car, a thought struck him.

"Since I... Uh, since I started sleeping on your couch," Envy began, wincing at his word choice, "have you driven out like this?"

As the car started with a gurgle, Ed shot him a glance. "Yeah," he said. "Yeah, I have." And then he grinned - a crooked grin, but Envy could see his teeth flashing in the cast-off moonlight and knew it had real humor behind it. "You were just asleep."

After making an annoyed grumble (that he didn't really mean), Envy settled back into the worn leather of the seat and pressed his head back to the window glass once more. Ed turned on the radio again and the strains of some late night tune drifted through the speakers, a counterpoint to the cool wind rushing in through his open window. Envy opened his a crack, tempted by the sight of Ed's blonde hair whipped back from his face, and closed his eyes in bliss as the air swept his hair back and played over his face. Something had changed between them, Envy thought, and changed for the better. He let himself dwell on the fact for a few moments, basking in something that had been pushed one step closer to a friendship, before his mind began to wander.

And, like always, it wandered back to Kimbley. He had realized something, in the moments before Ed had stopped the car. Realized that Kimbley hadn't been as bad as - that he had - he had... forgotten completely. Heaving a sigh, Envy curled up contentedly and closed his eyes, basking in the mountain air and taking one last, wondering glance at the stars before falling asleep for real.

If he couldn't remember, then chances were it didn't matter.

---

At ten o'clock, Ed was up early, surprising both himself and Winry, whose house he had decided to visit first. He stood behind her with hands in his pockets as she shook out sheets one by one and clipped them to the clothesline, looking surprisingly domestic in rolled-up jeans and a button-down shirt with a pink kerchief tied around her hair.

"You look like a housewife," Ed observed with a lazy half-grin, feeling the breeze ruffle his hair and welcoming it.

"Shut up," Winry said, but without vehemence. She placed another damp sheet on the clothesline and the sun fell on her upturned face, highlighting the scattered freckles and her limpet blue eyes, far away with thoughts of her own.

Edward didn't reply, content to take in the day - the scent of freshly mowed grass, the bright blue of the morning sky, the early heat radiating from the sun, and the sounds of birds singing from the trees in the neighbor's backyard. He felt... a hell of a lot happier than he could remember being in a long time. It was like a huge weight had lifted off his chest, and all he could do was smile and start breathing _for real_ again, and he had no idea why.

Well, that was a lie. He did kind of know why - the conversation with Envy had been the last happening in a watershed of events that had forced him to realize that maybe the guy wasn't half bad. Sure, he was a fucking nymphomaniac, and an asshole, and annoying, and a jerk, and really spoiled... but everyone had their flaws!

It was a ridiculously upbeat attitude and Ed knew it, had known it since he had woken up at nine-fifteen (_unreasonably_ early), but for some reason he still couldn't wipe the stupid grin off his face.

"You seem happy," Winry observed after a while, stating (or so Ed thought) the obvious.

"Do I?" Ed asked, still smiling in the direction of the garden. Granny Pinako had planted marigolds this year, the happy blossoms splashes of gold and orange against their green leaves.

The blonde turned to give him a look, half exasperation and half resignation. "Actually, I think you're the happiest I've seen since last month. What happened? Lose the prescription for your bitch pills?"

"I think you stole it, actually," Ed retorted, turning to grin at her. Even Winry's sour mood couldn't spoil his slightly obnoxious happiness.

"Har har," Winry laughed sarcastically. "Seriously, what happened to you? Did Envy leave? Die?" Her nasty tone made Ed realize that she wouldn't be surprised if that was the case, putting a slight damper on his feelings. The corner of his mouth twisted down into a slight frown, and he shrugged.

"We talked. Kinda."

The final sheet hanging forgotten from her arms, Winry turned to face him for the first time that morning, raising a slim blonde eyebrow. "Oh really? Did this 'talk' entail you guys beating each other shitless?"

"No!" Ed cried, slightly offended. "Why the hell would I want to do that?"

Winry's eyebrow went up a few more millimeters, and Ed's mouth snapped shut. /Oh yeah, because I already did _last _week./ His good humor suddenly evaporating, Ed turned away from Winry's gaze, studying the grass under his feet his face grew hot. He was probably - no, he was _definitely_ blushing. "It's not - I mean - Look, I..." Clasping his hands behind his back and looking up at the blue sky, he shrugged. "I dunno. I was... I've been thinking about a lot of the things you've told me, you and Izumi, and..." He sighed. "I figured I should give him a chance, and so when he wouldn't go back to sleep I figured I might as well take him in the car with me and then I told him and, um, yeah..." Ed's voice trailed off as he gave a vague recounting of the night before. Then, before Winry could question him for specifics, he turned to look her in the eye. "He's, er, he's really... not that bad."

"Oh really?" Winry replied, both her tone and her eyes full to brimming with amusement. "So you're admitting I was right? Shall I take that as a kind of apology? Can I say 'I told you so'?"

"No way!" Ed began, before biting his lip. "Well... honestly, um, I guess you kind of helped."

The blonde gave him a hard stare, then laughed. "I guess that's the closest you'll come to admitting you were wrong," she said, finally shaking out the last sheet and clipping it up. It fluttered in the soft breeze, blue paisley rippling like the ocean.

It gave Ed an idea. "Hey, Winry, let's go to the beach."

She wrinkled her nose at him. "Now?"

"No, dumbass," he replied, his good mood returning as quickly as it had vanished. "It's summer, I mean, we've gotta do something and we live in _California_. How about a day where we drive to the beach? You and Rose, me and Al..." He paused. "And Envy too, I guess. All day. With lunch and dinner and everything." He grinned at Winry, who rolled her eyes.

"I was wondering when you were planning to suggest something like that," she said, her tone good-natured for the first time that morning. "I don't see a problem. I'm sure I can convince Rose - and she's been doing a lot better since Al came to talk to her! I mean, she won't really talk to us, but at least she'll look at us like we're _there_, you know, and she's been eating again which is good because the baby -"

Edward took her by the arm, saw for the first time how strained her eyes looked, how hard she was trying to keep up her hopeful facade. "Don't sweat it," he said, projecting a confidence he really didn't feel. "We'll make her get better, trust me on that."

Winry blinked, apparently surprised by his words, before relaxing and slumping into his grip. The smile she gave him was tentative, but it was real. "Yeah," she said, and then again, "Yeah. We'll make it work out."

---

After informing him that Ed had left the house, Alphonse waved goodbye to Envy, reminded him that there was leftover pizza for the taking in the fridge, and climbed into Mrs. Tringham's car. At least, Envy assumed the blonde woman behind the wheel was the Tringham lady. Ed had left a note on the fridge reminding Al that she was to pick him up at ten-thirty, and it _was_ ten-thirty, and Al was gone, so... Envy shrugged to himself. /No fucking shit, Sherlock./

He was standing aimlessly in the center of the kitchen, arms dangling at his sides as he contemplated his surroundings, really _looked_ at them, for the first time. The apartment was small and slightly shabby, but kept obsessively clean mostly by Al, who spent most of his time (when not cooking) scouring at the countertops. Their dishes, he observed as he peeked into a cupboard, were generally plastic, and the fine china was kept on the highest shelf, covered with a dusty cloth.

It looked like dollar store dishware, Envy thought, having never visited a dollar store in his life. But it was something you expected from kids, or something that you'd find in the dollar aisle at Target. /Which is probably where it's from./

He crossed the small kitchen in a few steps. Aside from a plastic-wrapped plate of pizza slices, the fridge was nearly empty. On the door, there was a half-gallon milk carton dangerously close to its expiration date, cuddling close to a quart of orange juice. In the fruit drawers were three apples, and a small package of cheese and some cold cut turkey sat looking lonely in the deli drawer. There were a few more unidentifiable containers of leftovers, a plastic pack of vegetables, ketchup, mustard, jelly, and a sadly wilted head of lettuce. Envy frowned.

The freezer was even emptier, containing a half-empty ice cream carton, ice cubes, a package of bread (?!), a bag of frozen corn, and a stack of microwave dinners. He made a face. Of course there was more in the pantry; brownie mixes, flour, packets of ramen noodles, crackers, chips, canned vegetables, and other food preparation items. But still, to Envy, it didn't seem like they had enough food. Fresh food, anyway.

He ran a hand through his hair, shaking the too-long strands back from his face (it had grown, and was hanging in his eyes, _annoying_), before heading down the hallway. It would be at least another half-hour before Ed returned home, and he had more judicious snooping to do.

The Elric brothers' room was easy to find, obviously; there were two rooms to choose from in the hallway and only one had a bunkbed. But the other room...

Hesitantly, Envy opened the door and peered inside. It was lighter than he expected - for some reason he had expected a dank and musty place, but the room had a window that faced the other side of the apartment complex (a grim parking lot and dumpster view, but it was light, and it was outside) and the walls were white and cheerful looking. There were even flowers on the night table, and Envy did a double take before realizing that they weren't real.

On the dresser there was a jewelry box and a picture frame. Hesitantly, Envy padded forward, practically holding his breath. He felt like a spy, like he was intruding on sacred ground. /Or a graveyard,/ he thought, but squashed that comparison before he could get any more nervous.

The picture was old and dusty, but its subject was still clear. A man. A woman. A kid. A baby. Envy resisted the urge to wipe the dust away from the frame, instead leaning closer and squinting to make out their faces. The man was blonde, with a square chin and a beard. Rectangular glasses rested low on his nose, and he looked like his thoughts were far away, even though he was smiling. The woman on his right (so she showed up on the left side of the photograph) was smiling joyfully. Her brown hair cascaded down her shoulders, and she was holding a smiling blonde toddler in her arms. The man was holding up the kid - he looked about five, or maybe six, and was smiling outrageously, his arms stretched out so that his father's big hands could lift him up.

Ed and Al, Envy realized. Duh. And their mother and father. The mother who was in the hospital, and the father who... had left, maybe, or died, because he was never there. Probably just walked out one day, like Greed would've done to Dante if he had the balls.

Not that Envy would have cared. He straightened and ran a careless hand through his hair yet again, taking one last glance at the picture before leaving. They looked happy. They _had_ looked happy. That was... it must have been... what a normal family looked like.

Suddenly angry, he left the room with hurried steps and almost slammed the door behind him. _Normal_ family. Like there was any such thing as a _normal_ family. Because if things like _that_ could happen, and suddenly life wasn't all happy like the pictures anymore, and everything was -

Envy stopped at the entryway to the kitchen, not really sure why he was angry. "So I guess it's really not like the movies at all," he sighed to himself, then glanced at the refrigerator. Maybe, when Ed went grocery shopping next time, Envy would come with him, and offer to pay.

Maybe.

"Five Minutes to Midnight" by _Boys Like Girls_.

_um, i'm surprisingly busy even though it is summer break but when i have a chance i'll try and get the next chapter done. who loves the beach? i do. i hope we vacation there soon. adios!_


	14. Chapter 14

_i meant to get this up on Christmas. it's only, what, twenty-eight days late? sorry about that, guys. school got really hectic and i had _so much_ i needed to do for Christmas already... most of which remains undone. oh well. um... this chapter. i don't even know. ahaha. please be gentle with me, your absentee author._

**Chapter 14  
**_oceanside_

The sun was rising behind the car and the highway stretched out before it, vast, rising up and down and following the curve of the hills, vanishing at the horizon in a vast wash of indigo-blue. Envy leaned heavily against the side of Winry's jeep, feeling the wind rush through his long and rapidly tangling hair, press against his face and make it impossible for him to keep his eyes open for a long time, but impossible to sleep as well.

Al, next to him, shifted, his head dropping down onto Envy's shoulder. The kid was asleep, and Envy couldn't keep from giving a twisted half-smile at the slack-jawed expression on his face. His eyes moved from Al to his brother, on Al's other side. Ed was staring absently on the window, a small smile playing around the edges of his lips. It had been Ed's idea to go to the beach - he and Winry and Al had dragged envy into helping them assemble sandwiches for at least an hour the night before, and he had been the one to drag the covers off of Envy at an unholy hour to yell, "We're going!"

His mind was still fuzzy with exhaustion but as he took a deep breath of the fresh, summer-scented morning air, he couldn't help but be glad that he had been invited along to the beach before. Even though beaches in California were nothing compared to, say, those in Hawaii. The Bahamas. Okinawa. Tahiti. Australia. In fact, Envy could only recall going to a California beach _once_, when his mother had booked a suite in some world-famous (though for the life of him, Envy couldn't recall the name) resort. It had been crowded and the sand had been brown, not pure white or shining black, which had been strange.

Still, Envy was beginning to realize that beaches like that were probably, you know, _normal_. He sighed. Judging by the clock on the dashboard and the slowly climbing temperature, they were almost there. If he strained he could see a haze over the horizon. Maybe that was fog over the ocean - or it could have been an overspill of the normal Los Angeles smog. He looked down at his hands, folded in his lap. This was a wholly new experience. He wondered what _normal_ people did at the beach. His mother had sat under an umbrella and sipped mai-tais and other tropical cocktails, and Envy had joined her in the shade, listening to his iPod and smoothing fingers through the soft sand, smirking in answer to the various admiring gazes of the womenfolk. Now he realized that wasn't considered an exactly _enriching_ experience.

Envy twiddled his thumbs. Car rides were boring, especially when no one was talking, but he wasn't going to be the one to break the monotony. He glanced at Al - still sleeping - and then Ed - still staring out the window with that enigmatic expression. Then he squinted up to the front seat, where Winry seemed half-asleep at the wheel. He really hoped she was looking at the road. Next to her, Rose sat silently, not even reacting to the wind whipping the hair back from her face. Her shoulders were hunched and her gaze was lowered, though Envy could see her open eyes in the rearview mirror and knew she wasn't sleeping.

Rose was the strange thing about this trip. Of course Envy had expected Al and Winry, Ed's brother and best friend, respectively, and even though he was surprised he had been invited it did make sense, given the fact he was sleeping on the Elric's couch. But Rose...

Wasn't she Kain's girlfriend? Or something like that; anyway, Envy had never seen her _without_ Kain. They were practically married. Yet there she was, in the front seat of Winry's car - and come to think of it, Envy couldn't remember the two of them ever even _interacting_ before. Kain had hung out with Envy's group, and Rose had hung with Kain... and Ed and _his_ group had avoided Envy's group like the plague. Stupid high school politics, yeah, but that was the long and short of it.

Before he could finish his musings, the highway began to peter out into a long and flat dirt road, and he forgot his concern over Rose's presence, twisting in his seat to get a better view of the rolling bluffs stretching out before them. Even though they were only a few miles from the outermost suburbs of LA, the land was surprisingly undeveloped, and yellow dune grass stretched for miles. Except for the space in front of the car, where Envy could see a faint line of dark blue that grew bigger by the minute.

His movement caused Al to stir and open his eyes. "Wha..." the boy asked blearily, sitting up straight. To Envy's amusement, he had a red mark on his cheek where his face had been pressed against the long-haired teenager's t-shirt. "Oh, we're almost there..." Al murmured with a luxuriant yawn.

Envy yawned as well, and sat up straight. "Is this beach nice?" he asked.

The question had been directed at Alphonse but Ed stirred, sitting up straight and rolling his shoulders. "It's probably not quite what you're used to," the blonde said. Envy rolled his eyes surreptitiously. Even though Ed had been nice lately - _suspiciously_ nice, ever since that nighttime drive - he still sometimes made sarcastic references to Envy's upbringing in _a higher class_. "Still, it's a good, clean beach. Not too crowded. Not too much tar." In response to Envy's bemused look, he explained, "That's a problem in places like Santa Barbara, with the offshore oil rigs. Lots of gross black stuff washes up on the beach. Not so much here."

Envy nodded. Apparently taking that as an invitation to keep talking, Ed continued, "It's great for swimming, you know," and grinned. "The beach is sandy, and once you get past the breakers it's still shallow enough to stand."

Swimming in the ocean sounded dangerous to Envy, but he wasn't about to say _that _out loud. "Awesome," he said instead, ambivalently, and turned to the window again. Luckily, Ed realized that meant the conversation was over. Lately he had taken to talking to Envy a _lot_, and although it wasn't annoying _per se_... it was disconcerting. A complete one-eighty from his cold shoulder only a week before.

The jeep's tires were kicking up a trail of fine dust, and so Envy spent the remainder of the trip trying to breathe as little as possible. Luckily, it was a scant ten minutes of torture before Winry pulled into a large, nearly empty lot. "Here we are," she said, the first time she had spoken since they had gotten on the highway. "I need you all to help unload stuff from the back."

Envy barely heard her, his attention focused on the ocean. It stretched out before them to infinity (or so it seemed), and the sun rising behind them made the waves glint with reflected light. From here, he could smell the sea breeze and almost taste the salt on his lips, hear the cries of seagulls and the roaring of the waves. It was California, it was sunny, it was the fucking _beach_, and instead of mimicking his mother's world-weary blase, Envy found himself taking in the scene completely for the first time. He couldn't help the wide grin breaking out across his face.

"Don't forget the sand toys and the radio in the back," Edward said as he passed Envy, towing the large blue-and-white wheeled cooler. Envy had commented that it seemed like they were taking an awful lot of food for only five people, but Winry had informed him that this was lunch _and_ dinner, and nothing made a person hungry like a day at the beach. He had accepted her logic at face value, even though he had never been particularly peckish after sitting in the shade all day. Finally tearing his gaze from the ocean, Envy grabbed the gear out of the trunk, net bag of plastic toys in one hand and satellite radio-equipped boom box in the other. As he made to walk across the parking lot, he noticed Rose still sitting in the passenger seat of the car. It seemed as though she hadn't moved at all. And although he knew that Rose was normally quiet and reserved, Envy thought that immobility to this degree was just abnormal.

Maybe she had died during the drive and no one noticed that there was a corpse in the car with them.

... Okay, that thought was too creepy to shake off.

"Rose?" Envy asked, approaching the passenger side of the car. She didn't stir. "Hey, Rosie," he tried again, through the open window. "Rosie, what's up, Rose? Flower girl? Come on..."

Rose glanced at him through her pink-dyed fringe. Good. She was alive, then. But why wasn't she going out to the beach like the rest of them? Envy asked as much: "Aren't you going to get out of the car?"

There was a pause - Rose looked away, back down at her hands. She shook her head.

"No, you're not getting out of the car?" Envy asked. "Why?" When Rose didn't reply, he put down the radio and the bag of toys. This looked like it would be a longer conversation than he had anticipated. "Did you want to come to the beach?"

She shook her head.

"Why not?" Envy questioned, before realizing that she probably wasn't going to answer any question that required speaking. But she hadn't had a problem with talking before, when she got over her shyness. Envy frowned and leaned on the car's windowsill. "Rose, is something wrong? Did something happen?"

A pause, and then a nod.

"What?" Now Envy was beginning to get a little impatient. He scuffed his sandaled foot against the dirt of the parking lot, shifted his weight from one leg to the other.

Rose shook her head.

"Okay, you're not going to tell me," Envy said, his tone sour. "Fine, then. What about a guessing game?" Rose gave no response. Well then, full speed ahead. "So something happened," Envy began. "Was it... your parents?"

There was a long pause, and then Envy slumped. He could have slapped himself. /Dumbfuck, her parents are _dead_!/ "Er, wait, never mind that. Was it..." He searched for something else, and then returned to his previous thoughts on the matter - Rose was always with Kain. Kain wasn't here now. "Was it your boyfriend?"

A pause, and then a nod.

"Did he..." The thought was inconceivable - Rose and Kain had acted like they were _married_ for God's sake; Kain treated her like a slave and she took it like she had committed to him for _life_ or something - but with Rose's unusual silence... "Did he _break up_ with you?"

There was an even longer pause, and Envy found himself holding his breath, but eventually Rose nodded. Her hands trembled in her lap. Envy didn't know what to say to that, and so it was almost a relief - _almost_ - when she spoke, her voice quiet and shaking. "I'm pregnant."

The revelation was so unexpected that for a few seconds Envy just stood there, openmouthed, probably looking like a bona fide idiot. "P-pregnant," he stammered after a while. "Pregnant, really?" He narrowed his eyes and looked hard at Rose like that could help him tell whether or not she was lying. The girl was a bit of a drama queen and making an announcement like that was _definitely_ a plea for help.

Instead of meeting his gaze like she used to, she looked away and sniffled. Her eyes were already swimming with tears.

"But..." Envy protested, looking around wildly. "Condoms? The pill? Kain - does Kain know about this?"

Rose swallowed and nodded, her hands clenched in her lap. "H-he..." she said, her voice softer than a whisper, and Envy had to lean in to hear. "He broke up with me when... when I told him..."

Envy looked at Rose for another moment, but then something broke inside of him and he slumped against the side of the car, reaching through the open window to wrap an arm around Rose's shoulders and pull her closer. "Oh, _Rosie_," he said, and stroked her hair as she began to sob.

---

"The radio," Edward said, looking around the pile of beach stuff that had been placed to the side of their spread blankets. "Where's the radio? I told Envy to get it. Where's Envy?" He looked around their encampment several times before shading his eyes and looking back towards the Jeep. "Is he still at the car? What's he doing?" His tone was almost hostile. "Hey, hey, Winry..."

"Chill _out_," Winry said, setting down three foldable plastic chairs. She had already taken off her plaid top and was now clad only in a baby blue bikini and cargo shorts. She stood to join Ed in his scrutiny of her car. "Oh, he's just leaning on the side of my car. Hey, he's not allowed to do that!"

Ed squinted into the glare of the sun. "What in the world is he... Hey, is he talking to Rose?"

Winry tensed. "Is he? That - that asshole! That jerk! I am going to go over there right now and -"

"Woah, woah," Ed said, grabbing her arm and yanking her back. "I'm sure he's, uh, being a perfect gentleman; I mean, she's pregnant and she doesn't _talk_, for God's sake. How will he even start to seduce her?"

The blonde slapped his hand away. "No seducing! He's not going to seduce her!" She made as if to march towards the car again, and Ed was about to grab her again when she stopped in her tracks and slumped. "But maybe... Maybe..." She turned back towards their towels. "I don't know, maybe she'll be better off if she gets together with Envy. I mean, he's probably less of a jerk than Kain, right? He won't _hit_ her, and she'd have stability. With a boy. She likes boys."

For some reason, Ed found that idea instantly horrifying, probably because Winry was thinking of giving up the girl she'd had a crush on for, well, _years_. Yeah, that was why. "That's ridiculous," he said flatly, and punched Winry lightly on the shoulder. "Come on, she's smart enough not to get seduced by a pair of pretty eyes and green hair. And anyway, even if she does, that still is good for you, isn't it? I mean, Envy looks enough like a girl already..."

Winry burst out laughing. "Oh God, Ed, you could write the book on how _not_ to make someone feel better," she said, wiping her eyes and grinning at him. Ed, slightly miffed - he had honestly been trying to comfort her - frowned slightly. "Stop that," Winry said with a grin. It was her turn to punch him on the arm, and her punches _hurt_. "Al's already ran down to the ocean, you had better grab him before he catches another crab or gets all sunburnt again."

Ed shuddered, remembering their last trip to the beach. Oh yeah, that was why they hadn't gone to the beach since June last year. "I'm on it."

---

Rose sniffled and wiped her eyes. Her sobs seemed to be stopping now. Envy rested a hand on her head, making a soothing noise. "It's alright, Rosie." Gradually, the shaking in her shoulders ended and she closed her eyes, resting her head and one of her hands against Envy's chest. Envy found himself hoping, for some reason, that no one was watching. That was a slight surprise to him; usually - well, the _old_ Envy would usually be all over this opportunity.

He wondered when _old_ Envy had been replaced by... whoever he was now.

He stroked Rose's hair for a few minutes, and then chucked her under the chin. "Come on now, we're at the beach." Although it was not something he was used to, he tried to keep his voice gentle, imagining he were soothing a panicked animal or calming a baby - both actions with which he had little experience. Well, he was an actor, and good at improvising, anyway. "The beach is for fun, for partying, right? We drove all the way out here, so do you want to come play?"

It was almost a convulsive gesture, the way Rose shook her head. "I can't," she said, and the words were another sob.

Damn, and Envy thought he had stopped her crying. "You can't... because you're pregnant? Sad? Ah... broken?"

She nodded and her nose dug into Envy's chest. It almost tickled. This was a novel experience. He was used to making girls cry, sure, but comforting them? Letting them get their tears and snot all over his shirt? That was new Envy. Again.

"Look, Rosie, flower girl, you're not... I mean..." Envy chewed his lip, struggling to find the right words. What could he say that would make Rose happy? What could he say that would force her to straighten her spine, lift up her chin, look the world in the eye? If he could be pardoned for using such a trite expression. He stared off in the direction of the ocean but soon found his eyes drifting towards Ed and Al and Winry, standing at their makeshift campsite. They were probably waiting.

"You know," he began carefully. "Ed used to hate me. And I used to hate Ed. But this summer I got kicked out of my own house, got raped by my best friend - yeah, Kimbley, _that_ best friend," he said sourly, "and ended up on the doorstep to Ed's apartment." Now that Envy thought about it, his and Rose's stories were awfully familiar. "It's funny how the world works, isn't it?"

The grin he gave Rose was just crooked, just painful enough to elicit an answering smile. She straightened slightly and for the first time since their conversation had begun, met his eyes. Hers were slightly bloodshot and a little teary, and Envy wiped them with his thumb. "You're good, right?"

This was the Rosie he knew, the one who tucked her hair back behind her ears and gave the quiet reply, "Good enough."

Envy's grin widened at the response and he opened the door of the Jeep so that she could hop out. As she got to her feet, she laid a hand on Envy's arm. "I'm sorry about Kimbley."

For new Envy, there was only one response to that and it didn't have anything to do with himself. "I'm sorry about Kain."

Rose continued down the pathway to the beach, stepping gracefully in her sandals over the detritus that was scattered across the sand. "Damn," Envy said, rummaging around for the radio and snatching up the plastic garbage bag full of beach toys. "That is _some_ woman."

But the funny thing was, that was all he felt. Sympathy for Rose, respect for Rose... but no attraction at all.

"New Envy," he muttered as he began the trudge to their campsite, "you are one weird son of a bitch."

---

Rose had been crying. Winry noticed her tearstains and the slight redness of her eyes with that part of her that noticed _everything_ Rose did - the same part that noted the way her brown hair curled softly away from her face, the way the roots were showing under her dyed-pink bangs, the way her loose and flowing summer shirt also managed to obscure the shape of her stomach, which was almost but not quite swelling gently. And she had taken that all in at a glance. She looked away, turning back to Edward, whose multiple idiosyncrasies generally went unnoticed. By her, anyway. Most of the time. "You swimming?" she asked, trying to ignore Rose's approach and Envy, dragging the beach toys behind her.

Ed looked out across the water and the shade of the umbrella obscured the sparkling reflections of the ocean in his eyes. "I guess," he said after a while, his slightly wistful expression changing to mischevious with a thought. "Envy's never swum in the ocean before, has he? You can tell. He's planning on just sitting under the umbrella."

Winry couldn't tell. "Right," she said, because it was best to humor Ed in these types of situations. She glanced at the beach, where Alphonse, now liberally sunscreened, was splashing in the incoming waves, and then back at Ed. "You know what this calls for?" she asked, her look becoming almost as mischevious as his. "_Sunscreen buddies_."

"Excuse me?" Ed turned to look at her, confusion writ plainly across his face. And then a light of dawning comprehension - "Wha- you mean... Oh. But that -" She stifled a giggle. "You'd be with - which means _I_ would - can't he just - gah!" He ran a hand through his hair, tangling it in his braid with exasperation. "Fine, but only because it's you."

She smiled at him and was about to reply but Rose had reached their makeshift campsite and she turned to her, pretending she didn't notice the tearstains under her cheeks. "Hey, Rose."

"Hi," Rose said, and gave her a soft, tremulous smile. Winry's eyes widened. Rose had just talked to her, said something, _smiled_ for God's sake - at her - for the first time in, what, weeks? Months? The weight of the summer felt like years.

"Ah, yeah," Winry said, glancing at Ed to see if he noticed anything - but of course he didn't; he was looking at Envy with an annoyed expression because the garbage bag was probably getting all torn up by the sand from his dragging... She shouldn't have expected him to notice either. Ha. _Men_. "Will you be swimming today?" she asked nervously.

Rose looked out over the ocean, her hair billowing softly about her shoulders in the gentle sea breeze. "Probably not," she said, not taking her eyes from the rolling waves. "I've always been..." Her voice, already soft, grew quieter. "I've always been afraid of the ocean."

Winry wondered if she could feel her heart breaking, or was it melting, was she falling more in love, was she just giddy from the smell of salt and the roaring waves? Whatever it was, in that moment all she wanted to do was take Rose in her arms, cradle her, stroke her hair - maybe it was motherly instinct. "The ocean is huge," she said, not sure whether she was agreeing or saying something totally unrelated or what. "But anyway, you should put some sunscreen on."

The brunette nodded. She hadn't worn one of Winry's swimsuits - that would have been really awkward for both of them - but Winry had convinced her to borrow one of her sleeveless summer shirts, which was covered by a light jacket.

"At least take that off," Winry said, wondering if she sounded too much like she was trying to get Rose to show more skin. Which she wasn't! Sort of. "It's going to get really hot soon, even under the umbrella." Did that sound like an innuendo? Could this whole set up be used as some kind of bizarre "that's what she said" joke? She hoped she wasn't blushing. She _really_ hoped she wasn't blushing.

Rose shrugged off the jacket, folding it neatly. Winry noticed how she stood now with her shoulders slightly hunched, to minimize the appearance of her belly. She wondered what Rose would do when it started getting bigger for _real_. Her arms were olive skinned and smooth.

Edward was fiddling with the radio and Envy was standing awkwardly in his borrowed swim trunks and extra large T-shirt, staring out over the ocean. When Winry clapped her hands together loudly they both came to attention, Envy startling like a rabbit or a deer in the headlights, Ed rolling his eyes as he looked up reluctantly because he knew what was happening next. "All right, guys!" Winry said, forcing cheer and exuberance into her voice. "Since we're going to be at the beach all day, we need to keep remembering to reapply our sunscreen. So Ed and Envy, you'll be sunscreen buddies, and Rose and I will be buddies." She hoped she wasn't too obviously trying to throw her and Rose together. "We'll do each other's sunscreen, check for mixed spots, and reapply every..." She glanced out at the waves. "Hour and a half or so. And _everyone_ watches out for Al."

Winry heard Envy ask Ed some kind of sardonic question, but her heart was beating too fast and too loud to allow her to hear the actual words or Ed's reply. She rummaged in the beach bag for her own sunscreen, putting a dollop on her fingers and smearing it across her cheeks, pretending her hands weren't shaking. But they were. This was getting ridiculous....

She smeared sunscreen across her chest and shoulders, then on her stomach, and removed her shorts to smooth it down her legs and thighs. She had to be especially careful with her pale skin - compared to her, Rose probably wouldn't need much sunscreen at all. Speaking of which... She snuck a glance up at Rose, who was... staring at the ocean. Not watching Winry at all. Of course. "Hey, um, Rose?" Winry began hesitantly. "Will you do my back and shoulders?" She held out the sunscreen bottle.

Rose took it and examined it like she had never seen such a thing before. "Alright," she said after a few moments, and squirted some sunscreen onto her hand. Winry turned around, biting her lip as Rose's soft hands smoothed over her shoulders. She was acting pathetically; probably taking advantage of Rose in some way, but if this was the only way they could get close...

And for God's sake, wasn't she overreacting? It was just _sunscreen_.

When Rose had finished Winry took the tube and began smoothing it over Rose's shoulders, which were upon closer examination, spattered with tiny dark freckles. She was almost done rubbing the last of the sunscreen in when Rose said, in her quiet voice, "My baby... Do you think it will be a boy or a girl?"

Winry smiled, wiped her hands, and tucked a strand of Rose's hair behind her ear. "Either way," she said softly, warmly, "it'll be beautiful."

---

"Yeah, shut up, sit still," Ed said with exasperation in answer to Envy's complaing that he was more accustomed to having tanning oil rubbed onto him by mahogany beauties in like, the Caribbean or something. He rubbed the sunscreen roughly into Envy's knobby shoulders, wondering (not for the first time) exactly _what_ girls saw in him. Sure, Envy's skin was smooth and he had a fairly good body - fairly because muscles were apparently a foreign thing to Envy - and maybe his face was attractive?

Still, it definitely wasn't enough to make girls fall for him head-over-heels all the time. Maybe the large part of work was done by Envy's reputation. Or - more likely - and he found it strange to think he had almost forgotten - by Envy's _mother's_ reputation. "You're a real jerk, you know that?"

He was surprised to feel Envy's shoulders stiffen slightly under his hands. "So I've been told," the long-haired teenager replied archly.

Edward narrowed his eyes at the back of Envy's head - was he nervous? angry? insulted? And Ed had really just meant it as a joke. Though he supposed it had been an insensitive comment to begin with, especially after the events of the recent weeks. "A rich bastard," he continued out of a spirit of scientific curiosity.

Envy's shoulders tensed again and Ed fought the urge to begin massaging them - a relic of too many Winry-requested backrubs, he supposed. "I thought you had gotten over this?" he asked icily.

Ed raised an eyebrow and began working the sunscreen into Envy's lower back. He figured he had better apply it pretty liberally. Envy was really white and would probably burn like a lobster as opposed to Ed, who bronzed wonderfully. (Or, as Winry had said, like fried chicken.) "I'm kidding," he said placatingly. "It's just sort of annoying that you went on all these cruises and vacations and to all these fancy resorts your whole life."

"Except this year," Envy pointed out. "So no need to be jealous." His face was hidden by his swinging, greenish hair (now black at the roots) and Ed wondered what his expression looked like. Envy _had_ changed a lot; a month before he would have answered Ed's jealousy with a barbed remark or an insult in kind. But now all he had to reply with was a tired kind of retort.

For a moment, Ed regretted saying such harsh words. "Yeah," he replied, and forced some cheer into his voice. That wasn't so hard as he looked out onto the ocean, the waves already reflecting blinding bright sunlight. "But I bet you'll have the most fun on _this_ trip." A grin slid unbidden onto his face as he put the cap back on his tube of sunscreen. "You're done."

Envy stepped away from him and tucked a few strands of hair behind his ear before turning to face Ed. "Er, thanks," he said awkwardly, glancing into Ed's face as if checking for something. Maybe to see if Ed really had been kidding with those careless comments? He glanced at the tube of sunscreen. "Your turn?"

"Er, yeah," Ed replied, turning around. He made sure he was facing the ocean, _not_ Rose and Winry, because they were awkward enough _without_ his help, thanks very much. "You ever gone swimming in the ocean before?" he asked as Envy smacked a cool glob of sunscreen onto his back. Ouch. That had been applied with a little more force than totally necessary.

"Yeah," Envy said with bravado and Ed wondered whether he was lying. Probably. His suspicions were proved right when, after a moment of silence where Envy had halfheartedly rubbed sunscreen across his shoulders, the long-haired teenager muttered, "Actually, no."

"Thought so," Ed said with a chuckle. "But you can swim, right?"

"Of course I can!" Envy replied, sounding rather affronted. Ed waited several moments for him to retract his statement, and was slightly surprised when he didn't. Maybe Envy really could do something besides act and be spoiled and lie on the couch all day - but he wasn't supposed to be thinking those thoughts now, was he? They were _getting along_. Ish.

"Awesome," he said. "Then you should have an okay time. I - er, we'll all go out with you the first time because it's a bit hard to get used to at first. It's so much fun though!" He craned his neck over his shoulder to check whether Envy was actually bothering to rub the sunscreen in all the way - the touches across his back were so light that they barely felt like anything. "Hey, make sure there's no white left on my back, okay?"

Envy muttered something (probably uncharitable) about how Ed just _assumed_ he even _wanted_ to swim in the ocean and he knew very well how to rub in sunscreen, thanks, but Ed wasn't listening. He was watching Al with the shovel, beginning to dig a sand castle, and behind Al, the waves rolling in on the gloriously open, gloriously clear, gloriously _empty_ beach. Today was the perfect day for a trip to the ocean and - Envy or no Envy, and even if Envy didn't actually rub in his sunscreen all the way - it was going to be _great_.

"Oceanside" by _The Decemberists._

_i was able to go to the beach (yay Texas?) this summer and got horribly sunburnt - it was so bad that my skin is still kinda pink and blotchy on the shoulders. ew. for the record: aloe vera lotion helps. reapply. swim shirts are your friends. ironic i'm saying this in, what, january?_


End file.
